The Alexandria Junior League
by darylsdiva1
Summary: The people in the Alexandria Safe Zone get to know the new band of survivors who have joined their community, including puzzling out just what's up with the cookie baking den mother and the feral loner who brought fresh possum for dinner.
1. Chapter 1

Aaron and Eric speculate on just who and what Daryl Dixon is as he and Aaron prepare for their first scouting mission together. Aaric &amp; Caryl.

Slight spoilers for S5:13, "Forget."

* * *

**_The Alexandria Junior League_**

"And you don't think this is gonna come back and bite us on the ass?" Eric said as he watched Dixon roll the motorcycle over to the ASZ gates where several members of his group had gathered to see him off.

"You know Deanna and I talked about it at length before I approached him. You saw the tapes." Aaron assured him.

"I saw a feral hillbilly loner." Eric scoffed. "Who hasn't seen a bar of soap or a stylist in longer than I can imagine."

Aaron chuckled as they watched Daryl pull on a leather sleeved jacket and then don his vest back over top of it when the sweater clad cheery woman with the short gray hair, Carol, handed it to him. As their hands brushed Daryl's cheeks flushed just enough to be noticeable and he murmured a soft thank you to her before ducking his head shyly.

"What did he say the reason he wanted to be here in the ASZ was?" Aaron asked.

"The kid. The baby." Eric grudgingly admitted, watching Carl, who was holding Judith up to Dixon so he could accept a pat on his cheek from the little one, which made Carol and Rick smile. The obvious affection the children had for Daryl was a good sign that there was more to the man than first appeared.

"Did you read the transcripts from the surveillance I did on them?"

"Dixon didn't say much." Eric shrugged.

"When he and Carol went off alone together—day before I approached them...when she told him he had to let himself feel their losses?" Aaron and Eric both looked more closely at the petite woman in the brightly patterned sweater and mom jeans still standing close at Daryl's side.

"Den mother." Eric frowned dismissively. "She's wearing _florals_ for Christ's sake—look at the flowers!"

"I watched them. I didn't just _listen_—I _watched_ them—and I didn't put it all in the transcript." Aaron said thoughtfully.

"What? What did you see?"

"Patience. Understanding. Caring." Aaron took Eric's hand in his, "Love."

"The JC Penney soccer mom and the Hell's Angel?" Eric snorted, "_Seriously_."

"You know better than to judge a book..." Aaron admonished, bringing Eric's hand up to his mouth for a kiss. "He stays here because he's bonded with his whole group—but there's something more there, more emotional, with _her._ He let her touch his hair, do the Hubble brushing it back move, and then she kissed his brow..."

"And here I was hoping maybe he'd bat for our team." Eric sighed with snark. They'd been dishing about the overall stunning attractiveness of everyone in the new group and Daryl's inarticulate blend of long legged surly swagger and sexy biceps had been especially intriguing.

"You're talking about my new field partner..." Aaron said, raising an eyebrow—was Eric's teasing covering for real concern? Was he jealous of Dixon?

"So I don't have anything to be worried about?" Eric asked, looking deeply into his partner's eyes.

"I think that his life even before the Turn was pretty shitty, and that Daryl Dixon has a hard time letting _anyone_ in, but he let those people in—and it started with _her_." Aaron said softly, tilting his head towards the group by the gate, "You can see it; the way they are with each other. Rick can hold him back; control him with brute force if necessary, but Carol? She does it with a look, the slightest touch, a word."

"You see a lot." the low voice came from behind them and they turned as one.

It was Michonne, the other new constable.

"Officer." Aaron said deferentially.

"You're going out there with Dixon." the deadly looking warrior intoned.

Aaron nodded.

"Anything happens to him—"

"I know—you'll kick my ass." Aaron said, setting his jaw.

"I'm _really_ not the one you should be worried about." Michonne raised an eyebrow and nodded towards the group surrounding the Archer.

They all watched as Carol took a step back, giving Daryl his space to shake hands with Rick and Carl, bump fists with the dark haired girl, Tara, nod at the odd man with the mullet, Eugene, and then clasp arms with Glenn and Maggie who had run up, late for some unknown reason.

When the young couple released him after handing over a small wrapped object, Dixon turned back towards the bike and stowed it in the saddle bags. He looked like he was ready to climb on, gripping the handlebars, but suddenly turned and grabbed Carol up in a hug, surprising her. The others around them exchanged knowing grins.

"Anything happens to Daryl?" Michonne asked and the side of her mouth curled into an enigmatic smile. "I'm not the one you'll have to watch out for."

Eric gave Aaron a puzzled look as Michonne sauntered away to wait her turn at a farewell with Daryl, who was still clinging to the small unimposing woman holding him just as tightly, her hands gripping the angel wings on the back of his vest.

Noticing that the embrace was attracting unwanted attention, Grimes gently put his hand on Carol's arm and leaned in, saying something to her quietly and she quickly released Daryl, who took a few beats longer to let her go as well.

The deadly squinting look Dixon gave Rick would've made a lesser man quail, but the constable just squinted back and said something that made everyone around them chuckle, breaking the tension, while Daryl distinctly said, _"Fuck you,"_ to the group's leader.

Smiling, Carol stepped back and Michonne moved in to grip forearms with Daryl. Carol crossed her arms in front of her as she stood next to Rick, and her smile looked more strained as she watched Dixon check that his crossbow was secure in its new carry mount on the back of the bike. She glanced over at Aaron and Eric, flashing them a micro-expression very much like the one Daryl had just given Rick, a hostile warning, that was gone just as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a benign smile and nod.

"Maybe you need to see about having meal delivery while I'm gone." Aaron murmured, "What with your ankle and all."

"Get to know the new head of the Alexandria Junior League a little better?" Eric mused. "See if there's more to her than casseroles and sensible shoes?"

"Oh, I know there is." Aaron said, tossing his backpack across to the passenger's side of the rusty red sedan, "I'm just not sure what that means for us."

Eric nodded.

"You watch yourself out there. Dixon's capable, I'm just not sure you can trust him. You're not one of his." Eric warned.

"Not yet." Aaron grinned with a waggle of his eyebrows, making Eric snort. The men embraced, kissed tenderly, and then rested their foreheads on each other.

"C'mon lover boy—ain't got all day." Daryl growled out a shout, not without humor, and then started up his motorcycle, its engine noise drowning out any rejoinder Aaron might have made.

"Come back to me." Eric said, making himself heard, his mouth brushing Aaron's ear.

"Always." Aaron responded and then released his tight grip on his lover. He saluted Daryl and got in the car, starting it and waving at the guard to open the gate.

As first the bike and then the car passed through, Eric crutched his way over to the group that had come to farewell Dixon, which was starting to disperse. When the gate closed only Carol, Rick, and Eric remained.

"He'll be okay." Rick said reassuringly, putting his hand on Carol's back in a careful gesture of comfort.

"He always comes back." Carol turned to him with a serene smile as the sound of the motorcycle dopplered away. When they noticed Eric's approach both she and Rick tensed slightly and the uniformed man dropped his hand to rest at his side, right above his Colt. Then Carol very deliberately squared her shoulders and gave the other man a bright smile.

"I hope you'll be able to join us for dinner now that you're on your own for a bit." Carol said, reaching out and putting her hand on Eric's forearm.

"I'd be honored." Eric smiled. "It's not every day I get to break bread with the head of the Alexandria Junior League."

Rick frowned at him, but Carol laughed merrily.

"We'll see you at six—or would it be easier if we brought everything to you?" she said, looking down at his splinted ankle.

"I'll come to you." Eric gestured to the golf cart that waited to take him back the house he shared with Aaron. "Can I give you a lift?"

"No—thank you—I need to stretch my legs." Carol demurred, waving him off. "I'll walk back with Rick."

"All right—see you this evening." Eric nodded.

"The _Junior League_?" Eric heard Rick ask Carol incredulously as the cart pulled away.

* * *

"...the Hubble brushing it back move," is a reference to the film, _The Way We Were_, in which Barbra Streisand's character gently and lovingly brushes Robert Redford's character, Hubble's bangs off his forehead. It's always struck me as the most romantic gesture!

Thanks for letting me have my therapy, LOL! Reviews are love:-)


	2. Chapter 2: One and the Same

Such total Caryl feels from this song! I can see the potential Caryl YouTube video in my head, but have no idea how to do all that technical wizardry to make it, (I hope someone who reads this does!) so I wrote a song fic story instead. Sequel to _The Alexandria Junior League._

_Note: A yenta is a Jewish professional matchmaker._

_Trigger warning: brief mention of physical abuse._

* * *

_**One and the Same**_

_I know what's rolling, around in your head  
It's too hard to say so, you leave it unsaid  
It's easier to turn, and walk away instead_

_You speak of love, as if it was a ghost  
that you don't believe in, and you never get close  
and you never give into, what you want the most_

_Oh yea, you and me, we are one and the same  
We light up the fire, and we run from the flame  
We pray for a storm, then hide from the rain...  
You and me,  
We are one and the same  
We are one and the same_

-Gareth Dunlop &amp; Kim Richey: _One And The Same_

* * *

"It's good for them—to get out of here for awhile." Eric said, offering the plate of garlic bread to Carol which she refused. "You need to eat more, sweetie." he added with genuine concern.

Rick's entire group had been rail thin when they'd arrived, but in the month or so since they'd taken up residence here in Alexandria most had started to fill out and look healthier, with the exception of Sasha and Carol.

Sasha seemed to run on adrenaline and caffeine, most of her time spent high in the watchtower on sniper duty, stretched tighter than the rubber band propeller of a kid's toy, ready to spin out of control across the landscape, stuck in a tree, impossible to retrieve. But she'd already saved them from a herd, sending out an early warning, allowing them to mount the walls and pick off the dead trying to push through. They needed her on that wall.

Carol was stretched just as tight under her domestic façade, though it seemed only her group and the two other outsiders seemed to notice. She spent a lot of time with them because Daryl did, working away at all hours in the garage on the bike. She'd stop by with some new baked good experiment for them all to try, her smile bright, subtly checking up on the Archer; feeling out the true intentions of the men who had given him a purpose in the community.

Aaron and Eric recognized the damage in both of them; the care the two survivors took with each other reminding them of how they'd been when they met, abused by the ignorance of their parents, fragile, expecting anything but love. For one it was mental torture that started with applesauce and onions, for the other "toughening" in the form of a strict military school that believed in sleep deprivation and forced work outs, extreme physical training from the time he was a small child that made his joints stiffen with early onset arthritis; brutal beatings by the older boys, sexual humiliation...

Finding each other in DC had been everything. Recognizing that they were one and the same, finding the freedom to love another without fear? It had taken everything they had to overcome the scars of their pasts and start to trust. They watched Daryl and Carol struggle with the same fears and did everything they could to ease their way.

Because of their jobs, Aaron naturally spent more time with Daryl. With Eric's injury, he had the perfect excuse to befriend Carol when she brought him suppers. It was a task and a half to move beyond surface appearances with her, while surprisingly Daryl had started to open up from the first evening he'd spent at their home, slurping up the pasta like an eager starving child. Spaghetti Tuesdays became a tradition after that and on his third week as the other ASZ recruiter Daryl had asked if he could bring a guest to their dinner.

The three men had been in the garage, Daryl trying to explain what the manifold did versus the muffler, trying to figure out a way to get the bike to run more quietly. Daryl looked out from under his bangs, suddenly seeming a bit tongue tied, something he never was when discussing motorcycles or hunting.

"Uh—tomorrow—supper time? I was wondering-" Daryl blurted, then stepped back, his feet shifting back and forth uneasily, wiping his greasy hands on a rag and then stuffing it back in his pocket. They'd finally gotten him to wear coveralls when working on the bike, doing their little part to save his clothes from the oily residue as best they could.

"You're still coming aren't you? Wouldn't be spaghetti Tuesday without you!" Eric said brightly then couldn't resist a little tweak. "That Merlot you two brought back last Friday will go perfect with the new marinara Carol sent over she made from the tomato crop—that woman knows her oregano and garlic as well as she fills out those slacks!"

Daryl's head came up, a flash of confused jealousy marring his handsome features.

"What were you going to ask, Daryl?" Aaron said smoothly, after quickly glaring at Eric.

"Don't matter." Daryl grunted, turning away to pick up a wrench to start loosening the manifold cover, bending back to the task.

"I'm sorry Daryl—I didn't mean any disrespect—I just think under all that Suzy Homemaker shit she wears, that maybe Carol's got a rockin' ass." Eric said mildly, waiting for the explosion while Aaron rolled his eyes.

Daryl threw down the wrench, a solid metallic clatter on the garage floor and stared daggers at Eric.

"What the _fuck_?" Daryl was equal parts pissed and perplexed. "Of course she does! What you doin' lookin' at her ass for anyhow—you got _his _ass all your own!" he gestured to Aaron with an angry sweep of his arm.

"Well thank you, Dixon—nice to know you think my ass is as good as Carol's." Aaron said, preening.

"I didn't—I never—" Daryl was backtracking, trying to remember exactly what he'd said, blushing like a fool until he realized they were having fun with him, their grins splitting their faces.

"_Assholes."_ Daryl muttered, bending to pick up the wrench, but grinned too, sheepish now with the realization they'd gotten him to say he liked the look of Carol's ass.

"How long you been running away from that, Daryl?" Aaron asked gently.

Daryl's head came up again, like a gazelle at a watering hole, wary of predators stalking him when he was vulnerable.

Aaron's eyes held his, sympathetic, honest in his concern for his new friend.

Daryl chewed the inside of his lip, the wheels of his mind almost visibly turning.

"She's the one been doing most of the running...lately." Daryl said softly, looking down at his hands. "Wake up every morning wondering if she'll still be there..."

Both Eric and Aaron frowned.

"You don't think that she's thinking of..." Aaron asked. After the herd attack there had been two suicides; people who'd been in the cloistered safety of the Zone from the beginning who couldn't deal with the reality of what awaited them if the walls ever fell.

"Not like that, no...she's the strongest person I know...but taking off? Running?" Daryl stopped, shrugged and shook his head wearily. "Maybe."

"Why would she do that? Everyone, everything she cares about is here now." Eric asked, his brow creased with confusion.

"Exactly." Aaron said in a flash of understanding. "She doesn't want to watch them all die if it all goes wrong here."

They knew some of her story, what he'd heard and what the other survivors had shared, how Sasha's brother Tyreese had protected Rick's daughter and Carol after the prison fell, then saved them all from that place, the cannibals, how they'd lost him; how the attempt to rescue an injured Carol, who Maggie's sister Beth had saved, had gone so terribly wrong. It must seem to her like everyone she was close to died, one by one.

"Already have so many ghosts..." Daryl said, unexpectedly poetic.

"But how could she ever think of leaving _you_?" Eric insisted, and a blush started at Daryl's neck and slowly crept up his face.

"Eric." Aaron admonished, seeing Daryl's discomfort.

"I'm sorry, but it's the fucking Apocalypse—_love_, real love isn't a ghost!" Eric insisted, but saying the 'L' word pushed Daryl too hard.

"I gotta go." Daryl mumbled and began rapidly unfastening his coveralls and starting to strip them off revealing the smooth clean lines of the sun browned defined muscles of his broad shoulders and upper arms. The man was eye candy and didn't even know it.

"Bring her—tomorrow, Daryl. That's what you were going to ask anyhow, wasn't it?" Aaron said gently, moving to put his hand on Daryl's shoulder.

Daryl met his eyes, startled, blinked rapidly and then slowly nodded, wondering at the man's almost psychic abilities.

"I'm good at reading people too, remember?" Aaron smiled, squeezing Daryl's shoulder.

* * *

That night as they lay in their bed together, Aaron teasingly asked Eric if being yentas for their neighbors was really the best use of their time in their daily life and death struggle to survive.

"Doesn't everyone deserve to be as happy as we are? For as long as they can? Shouldn't we help as long as _we_ can?" Eric asked.

Aaron smiled in agreement, cuddling closer to his side.

"They just need a little help—and I think Daryl was asking us for that today, don't you?" Eric mused.

"I think _you're_ a good person. The best." Aaron responded, kissing Eric's lips that had curved up into a pleased smile.

* * *

"How ever will I keep my girlish figure if you keep pushing those carbs on me, mister?" Carol kidded back at Eric, raising a skeptical eyebrow at the plate of home baked bread he was proffering at the Tuesday dinner party.

Daryl grunted grumpily from across the table, swirling the Merlot in his stemmed glass, tipping back in his chair. He'd been prickly ever since they'd arrived, Carol in a figure flattering dress for once, one in pale blue that dipped in a deep V showing of her creamy cleavage and hugged her ass like a glove before falling in a loose swirl of material to her knees.

Why she'd dressed up so sexy for dinner with two men who only had eyes for each other was beyond him and not understanding it had pissed him off.

"Have_ you_ been enjoying the chance to get outside the walls, Carol? I hear your rifle lessons with Tobin have been going well." Aaron asked, changing the subject, an evil twinkle of false innocence in his eyes.

Eric's eyes widened, wondering why Aaron was prodding the bull so blatantly. Tobin's none too subtle pursuit of Carol when Daryl was out on runs was a favorite topic of gossip all over town.

"What the fuck?" Daryl blurted, his chair landing back on all four legs with a loud bang.

Carol lifted her wine glass, ignoring Daryl's outburst, and took a long leisurely sip before speaking.

"Well, I don't aspire to Sasha's levels of competency, but I can actually hit the target more often than not now with the bigger guns. Tobin's a very... _patient _and _attentive _teacher."

"You been goin' out there? Alone with that, that _idjit_?" Daryl fumed.

"You and Rick are busy with your work, I don't expect you to take time away from that for me." Carol said calmly. "Tobin was kind enough to offer."

"That ain't _all_ he's offerin'" Daryl muttered, drinking the rest of his wine glass dry and pouring another.

"What I do in my free time is none of your concern." Carol narrowed her eyes at him in warning and then delicately twirled the Angel hair pasta around her fork inside the bowl of her spoon, neatly shaping it into a bite sized portion and lifting it to her mouth.

"The hell it ain't." Daryl leaned forward, stabbing his fork into the pile of spaghetti on his plate and lifting it to brandish at her like a many limbed squid before stuffing it in his mouth and noisily slurping it down.

"Oh my god, give them a big meatball and one plate and it's _Lady and the Tramp_!" Eric burst into gales of laughter, followed by Aaron.

Carol put down her fork and glared at them, but the corners of her mouth turned up as she tried to suppress a grin.

"Idjits. Asshole idjits." Daryl shook his head. He knew Carol was probably going outside with Tobin as part of her covert mission to learn more about the inner workings of the community—he was their munitions expert—but that she hadn't told him about it didn't sit right. He knew she had to hide who she really was, but this felt wrong, her hiding something from _him._

"How are you at poker, Carol?" Aaron asked when his merriment died down.

"I prefer chess." she said with a smile.

"Even better!" Eric grinned, "We thought we could have tea and dessert with a friendly game or two—how's that sound? Aaron's really no competition for me; he prefers cards and I usually go along when we have guests."

"It's nice that you compromise like that...sweet of you." Carol said, nodding and stealing a glance at Daryl who was ignoring them, scraping the last of the pasta off his plate, using his garlic bread like a sponge to get the final remnant of sauce.

"Are you done?" Eric asked, reaching for Carol's plate to stack it with his.

"I'll do it—you just relax." Carol said quickly lifting her napkin, standing and moving to clear the table.

"I'll go find the chess board," Aaron said, standing and putting his napkin on the table. "Daryl, can you show Carol where everything is in the kitchen?"

Daryl frowned slightly, but then made his _sure why not _face and shrugged, rising, picking up the stack of plates and following Carol.

"I still can't get used to hot running water on demand." Carol smiled as she turned on the sink faucet and added a small amount of dish detergent.

"Though if everyone cleaned their plates as well as you we wouldn't need to wash them." she teased, lifting his pristine looking dinner ware from the stack.

Daryl's ears turned red.

"Weren't that long ago we were eatin' Lassie and happy to get it." he growled, opening a drawer and pulling out a clean dishtowel, slamming the door shut.

Carol sighed, trying to ignore his mood and listen to the soft music from the other room, some folksy comfortable sounding tune she had never heard.

_I know what's rolling, around in your head  
It's too hard to say so, you leave it unsaid  
It's easier to turn, and walk away instead..._

She set the dishes in the sink and picked up the crocheted dish cloth and started methodically washing, handing Daryl the plates and then the water glasses to rinse and dry. But their usual rhythm and ease was off; one of the tumblers slipped in the passing from one hand to another and hit the edge of the sink, bounced once and then fell to the hardwood floor, shattering.

Daryl quickly knelt, cursing himself for clumsy and started picking up the larger pieces and putting them on the dishtowel he threw on the floor next to him. Carol knelt beside him to help and he jerked back at her proximity, slicing open his palm on one of the broken pieces.

"Daryl—be careful!" Carol cried softly, taking his hand to stop him from continuing.

_You speak of love, as if it was a ghost  
that you don't believe in, and you never get close  
and you never give into, what you want the most_

"Stop—I'll bleed all over ya." Daryl warned and tried pulling his hand back.

"Won't be the first time." Carol snorted delicately, keeping a firm hold on his cut, applying pressure to his palm, the blood slowly oozing out, dyeing her hand red, dripping down onto her dress.

"Besides, you think my clothes look ridiculous, right?" she teased.

Daryl's eyes drifted from hers to the low neckline of her present outfit, her position kneeling next to him giving him the perfect view of her tempting softness, and then back up again.

"That one ain't so bad." he rasped, staring into her eyes, unsmiling heat reflecting back at her.

_Oh yea, you and me, we are one and the same  
We light up the fire, and we run from the flame  
We pray for a storm, then hide from the rain...  
You and me,  
We are one and the same  
We are one and the same_

Carol's eyes fell to his lips, framed by his scruff of facial hair, and then back up to the blue heat, tilting her head slightly to the side.

_You lost your way, how you gonna get back?  
You've gone so far now, you're clear off the map  
You're dying for help, but you're too proud to ask_

"I should see how deep that is—you might need stitches..." Carol said, verbally pushing away the moment but not moving to rise yet either.

"Don't go out there with him no more." Daryl said softly, raising his other hand to her cheek, puffing out a little contented sigh as her softness was confirmed after all the wondering he'd done about it.

_Oh yea, you and me, we are one and the same  
We light up the fire, and we run from the flame  
We pray for the storm, then hide from the rain...  
You and me,  
We are one and the same  
Always running away  
Always running away  
Always running_

Daryl could see the stubbornness start to rise in her eyes, the righteous protest that it had nothing to do with him on the tip of her tongue; saw her push it back down and utter only one word instead, closing her eyes and rubbing her cheek against his hand like a tigress marking her mate.

"Why?"

"Done running." he said simply, leaning close enough to touch his lips to hers.

In the doorway to the kitchen, Aaron slowly backed away and almost strutted back to the dining room table where Eric was setting up the chessboard.

"Well?" Eric asked.

"Score one for the ASZ yentas." Aaron smirked.

_Oh yea, you and me, we are one and the same  
We light up the fire, and we run from the flame  
We pray for a storm, then hide from the rain...  
You and me,  
We are one and the same  
We are one and the same  
We are one and the same_

* * *

AN: I kind of love the adventures of Aaron and Eric vis-à-vis Caryl;-)

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you'd like more...


	3. Chapter 3: Craftsman of Destruction

All right, bear with me because it's about to get all angsty up in here as Daryl and Carol try to understand the slow progress of their relationship in separate talks with Aaron and Eric. Also Carol has a troubling encounter with Tobin and we learn what was in the package Glenn and Maggie brought to Daryl the day he left on his first run with Aaron.

The chapter alternates between Daryl out on a run with Aaron and Carol back in the ASZ.

Trigger warning: brief allusions to child sexual abuse and spousal abuse.

* * *

_**Craftsman of Destruction**_

"_A liar knows that he is a liar, but one who speaks mere portions of truth in order to deceive is a craftsman of destruction._" - Criss Jami

* * *

_**Daryl**_

"How did you know?" Daryl asked the man sitting across the fire pit from him.

"Know what?"

"That it was... that you went for guys...men...not women."

Aaron chewed thoughtfully on the granola bar that was their usual breakfast out on the road. Since they'd left the Zone three days ago Dixon had been his usual taciturn self, but he sensed an underlying current of discontent in the Archer. He thought he knew why, but hadn't pressed Daryl about it.

"Why do you ask?"

Daryl shifted uncomfortably, wincing a bit as he fiddled with one of his bolts, a sign of his restlessness.

"It ain't all about the fuckin', is it?" Daryl's question sounded more like a statement.

Before he replied Aaron paused, hiding his bemusement at the personal nature of Daryl's line of questions with a fake cough masked behind his hand.

"No, I guess not. If I couldn't make love with Eric I'd still be _in _love with him." Aaron agreed, looking thoughtful. "That attraction has always been there for me though—I can appreciate a beautiful woman—like a work of art—but men's bodies are what interest me."

Daryl's head came up at that statement, but instead of the discomfort Aaron expected to see, there was curiosity.

"So Brad Pitt would get ya hard, but Angelina would just be... like ...a pretty statue?"

"_Fight Club_ Brad Pitt?—definitely." Aaron said wistfully and then chuckled, wondering if any of the beautiful people from before the turn were still alive somewhere, asking: _What the hell, God?_ We had it all and you set loose the Horsemen? What the _hell_?

It was Daryl's turn to look thoughtful, frowning a little and nodding.

"So what gets you hard, Daryl?" Aaron asked off handedly.

Daryl threw him a side eyed glance.

"Ain't talking 'bout me." He said quickly, evasively, angrily.

"Aren't we?" Aaron said quietly.

Daryl abruptly stood and snatched up his bow, stabbing the bolt back in the quiver that he slung over his shoulder.

"Goin' North." He grunted, grabbing up his small day pack and heading for his Scrambler. The new bike was better built for off road than Merle's Triumph had been, a more versatile machine for their forays into the outer world beyond the wall.

"Rendezvous at sundown. Use the walkie if you-" Aaron called after him, but the roar of the bike cut him off.

* * *

_**Carol**_

"I said I'm too busy, Tobin. This is the third time you've stopped by here in as many days and you keep getting the same answer." Carol said, working hard to keep her voice modulated to a pleasant only slightly more annoyed than flattered tone at his attentions.

The man wasn't taking no for an answer though. He'd shown up again after the last of the household had gone off to work, when she was alone, putting the breakfast dishes away.

"I checked the duty roster—you're not on for lunch deliveries until eleven—that gives us what? Three hours?" the big man said, giving her a lop-sided grin.

He was standing too close. He was as big. He was as big as Ed and he was _too close._

Carol was feeling penned in, herded to where he wanted her, towards the back porch door. Her hand went to her waist, but her trench knife wasn't there. It didn't fit in with her new clothes; would be the wrong kind of fashion statement. She sidestepped him, putting the kitchen island between them. The knives in the butcher block next to the sink were in her peripheral vision and her hand itched to take one, hold it behind her back, ready...

...ready for what?

She needed to placate him, stay on his good side, never let him suspect she wasn't what she seemed, that to save the ones she loved, she was the fire that could consume him...

She inched closer to the butcher block.

"I have a lot of other work to do—the deliveries are just the end result of the cooking, you know that." Carol pointed to the ingredients for the apple bread she was making arrayed on the island.

"You won't get any better with the rifle if you don't practice." Tobin said, coming closer so he could lean on the side of the island right next to her, close_, too close_...

Carol reached behind her, one hand closing over the handle of a carving knife.

Picking up one of the apples, then a second and finally a third, Tobin tossed them into the air, one after another, keeping them suspended there.

He was a juggler. A foolish clown.

"Gotta practice if you want to get good at a thing." he grinned a goofy grin at her. "Learned it in high school—thought it'd impress all the pretty girls. So what do ya think Carol? You impressed?" he raised his eyebrows expectantly.

The fool was _flirting_ with her.

Carol released her grip on the knife and crossed her arms in front of herself.

_You're quite a lady. _Poor sweet Axel's face and then a sudden splash of blood flashed in her mind's eye and she gritted her teeth.

"I'll be impressed if you don't bruise those apples." she said with just the right tinge of sarcasm. "I need them for my baking."

"Focused on the task at hand—okay, I get it." Tobin sighed, "Heads up!" he warned and one of the apples came flying towards her.

One handed she grabbed the apple out of the air, just snatched it up before it could fall any further, reflexes honed stiletto sharp.

"Impressive." Tobin raised an eyebrow and then set the other two apples down on the island as he stared at the one caught in her upraised hand.

Carol realized what she had done and let her face fall into a surprised look of bemusement, staring down at the apple in her hand.

"Maybe I should look into juggling lessons too, eh?" she gave him an over bright gummy smile, imitating light flirtation and then set the third apple down next to the others.

"You know where I live..." Tobin said easily, backing towards the door. "...And that I'll be back." he gave her a little salute and closed the door behind him.

Carol's carefully crafted mask of affability slipped off of her face. Her heart pounding, making an animal noise of frustration, she forcefully swept the apples off the counter onto the floor with both hands, listening to them drop and thud and roll away; realizing that she expected the worst of everyone...

Even herself.

* * *

_**Daryl**_

The rabbits Daryl had killed for their dinner were skinned, spitted and being turned slowly over the fire before Aaron returned to the spot where they had agreed to meet up.

He knew enough not to push Daryl for so much as a hello in greeting after the way he'd fled their conversation that morning. Instead he took the water Daryl had heated and used it to mix with the vacuum dried broccoli and pasta packet.

By now, a month into their assignment together, they had learned to efficiently work together on all of the necessary mundane details of life like setting up camp, preparing a meal, or taking out walkers. When the food was ready they sat and ate in silence.

Aaron paused enough times in eating to stare at Daryl that it was starting to make the Archer squirm.

"You just gonna keep eyeballing me?" Daryl grunted around a mouthful of bunny.

"Just wondering if you were ever going to answer my question." Aaron said noncommittally, scrapping the bottom of his bowl with his spork.

Daryl scowled at him and tossed down his empty bowl, looking like he was ready to bolt again.

"I mean I've seen it—what she does to you—makes you even more tongue-tied than usual. Makes you happy..." Aaron said gently, all traces of teasing gone.

Daryl eased back down onto the ground, his body tense and stiff, staring at the fire. He ran a weary hand down over his face and started stroking the graying tufts of hair on his chin, another one of his self-comforting gestures like chewing his thumb nail or lip.

"When you said...if you couldn't...that you'd still..." Daryl said, barely a whisper, his misery seeming to overwhelm him.

"Daryl—whatever's...whatever you need to talk about I'm here." Aaron said, leaning forward and matching his friend's quiet tone.

Daryl hesitated for a long moment, his battle with indecision evident on his face.

"Carol n' me...we... we _tried_." Daryl final got out. "She's like..._part _of me...n' I want her, but we get close and then we both...just freeze up..."

"Her husband?" Aaron asked, wanting to confirm what he and Eric had suspected about Carol's past life, before the turn.

"Yeah—he hurt her—that's some of it." Daryl nodded.

"But not all."

"No."

"So what about _you_? What's it been like for you? Before this?" Aaron asked, as circumspectly as he could, about Daryl's sexual past.

"You were born that way right?" Daryl asked, picking up a stick and poking at the edges of the fire with it, avoiding looking at Aaron.

"Gay?_ I_ think so, yeah." Aaron frowned at the questions unexpectedly shifting back to him.

"So it wasn't someone...made you that way...doin' stuff to ya." Daryl's voice had gone whisper soft again and he was staring at the flaming end of the stick he'd been sticking in the fire.

Aaron bit his lip so hard he could taste the bright copper tang on his tongue, felt a flash of quick tears, swallowed hard before he trusted himself to speak.

"No." he said quietly but adamantly.

"Had to whip me. He had to. To make me take it. Till I was big enough to fight back. Keep 'im off me." The monotone sound of the words in the dry rasp of Daryl's voice belied their devastating content.

Aaron closed his eyes against the anger that bloomed within him for whoever had destroyed Daryl's trust and innocence. That there were people out there, people who enjoyed acting as craftsmen of destruction, who thrived on it, was an unhappy truth he'd learned at an early age.

"Ran away. When I was eight...got lost in the woods for nine days. I was scared, but I was free." Daryl looked up at the trees overhead and the side of his mouth lifted a little into a smile, "Love the woods. Even now. Feel safe here." he looked to the edges of the circle of light created by their campfire. "Even with the walkers and shit. Seen worst monsters in the dark."

Aaron had seen Daryl's scars, evidence of some scourging evil that had been visited upon him.

"I don't want... I don't want to hurt her." Daryl murmured. "All it ever was for me...was just... _pain_. Ya know? And she has her pain too...and...We _like_ our pain...our pain kept us _safe,_ taught us to keep the walls up...stay safe...n' they just got... _thicker."_

"But you let her in. You found a door or a ladder or a sledgehammer and you let her _in."_ Aaron reminded him.

"_She's_ the sledgehammer ..." Daryl huffed out a chuckle and then sighed and ran his hand back through his shaggy mess of hair. "Wouldn't let me give up."

"And you want her—you're attracted to Carol that way?" Aaron asked.

"She ain't no statue." Daryl said in a way that let Aaron know he was mentally tracing every line, every soft womanly curve of Carol in his mind's eye.

"Have you ever been with a woman?" Aaron asked the question he and Eric had debated back and forth the whole time they'd been getting to know Daryl.

"Shit, man." Daryl scowled, rolling his shoulders in discomfort. "Fucked some women, yeah, mostly when I was drunk, when my brother..." his voice trailed off. "Ain't somthin' I'm proud of...weren't that different than jerking off when it came right down to it. Never kissed 'em...didn't hold 'em...barely touched 'em...just got off and got out."

"But it's different with Carol?"

"Since that night—at spaghetti? We sleep together...in her bed... talk about our days... laugh like kids... 'n kiss like horny teenagers until we ache, but then... then we _stop_ n' then in the morning we wake up all tangled together."

The beatific, frustrated confused smile on Daryl's face was breathtaking.

"Never had that...never _wanted_ that..._closeness_ before. But she's...she's home to me and I don't want to fuck that up." The last two weeks had been heaven and hell all rolled into one. He'd risked it, letting her know how he felt about her, but didn't know what to do next_. How_ to do it right.

"So when I said if I couldn't make love with Eric I'd still be _in _love with him..." Aaron said leadingly.

Daryl looked off into the distance, shook his head in frustration and winced.

"What if I can't be what she needs?"

"You already are." Aaron said, brushing away the tears at the corner of his eyes. "Daryl Dixon—who _never_ talks about his feelings or his past—just... just bared his soul to someone he would've probably crossed the street to avoid before the Turn. All to try and figure out how to love her better."

Daryl seemed to mull this over for a bit and then reached over to his messenger bag, the one that fit in the bike's saddle bags.

"I got this book—found it in a Women's Shelter when Carol n' me were in Atlanta. Been carrying it around...said I should talk to somebody who'd understand."

"May I see it? The book?" Aaron asked, his curiosity piqued.

Dixon pulled out the rolled up large form paperback book, covered in a brown paper sack and held in its cylinder shape by two thick rubber bands at either end. He'd almost forgotten it the first time they'd set out on a recruiting trip. Glenn and Maggie had seen it laid out where he'd been packing and brought it to him that morning, figuring if he'd taken that much trouble to squeeze it into better portability, it must be important.

The rubber bands snapped and the paper thickly crinkled as Daryl unwrapped it reverently and then handed it to Aaron. It was a bit worse for wear from its treatment, the cover and pages curled in on themselves.

Aaron silently read the title: _Treating Survivors of Childhood Abuse: Psychotherapy for the Interrupted Life._ He flipped it open and saw that someone—Daryl?—had used a pink highlighter and pencil, filling out the questions and exercises in about a third of the book. The last chapter completed was about narratives of sexual abuse. He read through the preface, aware that Daryl was watching him intently, gnawing on his thumbnail.

"You kept this—carried it on the road all the way from Atlanta?" Aaron asked. How important had this been to him that Daryl had held on to it when they were on foot, walking miles daily, literally starving?

Daryl nodded.

"I'm not a therapist, Daryl—but I've been in therapy." Aaron said, looking up at Daryl. "I think working this program? The one in this book? Maybe it could be something...maybe you and Carol can do it together."

"She knows I took it." Daryl said slowly, as if contemplating the suggestion.

"What you two have? What I know of it?" Aaron asked. "Even if it never gets sexual, it's more than most people ever have. You love and trust each other. That's real. That's important. Especially now."

* * *

_**Carol**_

"And that's how you lost your husband?" Eric said, after waiting several minutes for Carol to finish her thought.

She'd brought his dinner and he'd asked her to stay, as he often did, especially on Tuesdays. The rest of her group had been making new friends, slowly breaking off into smaller units for meals, though they all went to Rick's house twice a week for the equivalent of a strategy meeting, disguised as a "family" dinner.

Carol had been explaining a little about how she had met the original Atlanta group, carefully emphasizing the domestic duties she'd been accustomed to doing at the quarry camp, how she'd ironed Rick's uniform and washed clothes in the quarry, leaving out the grenade she'd found that saved them at the CDC, instead waxing poetic about the heroic efforts of Rick, Glenn and Daryl the night the herd attacked the camp.

"They just came out of the dark." Carol nodded in response to Eric's question about Ed and then added solemnly. "That's when we knew we'd never be safe again."

The only safety, the only peace she found any more was in the shelter of Daryl's arms when he held her at night.

She knew the work he was doing with Aaron, bringing in the lost ones, was important. Already they'd found and brought back a nurse and engineer; a pregnant woman and her wife who had come from New York with tales of a mega-herd inhabiting Manhattan after the bridges were blown.

It still didn't mean she'd stopped hating every second he was away. Didn't mean she'd come to terms with the regular loss of the only peace she had in her life now, at night in her bed in his arms.

Eric saw the faraway look in her eyes, reached across the table and took Carol's hand before he spoke.

"When they're out there I feel like I'm stretched so thin...as if the best part of me is tethered to him and the fibers of my being are pulled tight across the miles." Eric said and then continued, "As long as I can feel that pull? That constant tug at my heart? Means he's okay—alive and okay—and I just have to keep it together long enough for him to find his way back to me."

Knowing Eric was trying to comfort her as if she was a damsel in distress, fearing for her knight errant off on a crusade suddenly made Carol feel exposed and weepy. She tried to pull her hand from his grasp and looked away.

"Hey—I didn't mean to upset you..." Eric squeezed Carol's hand.

"I'm just tired." Carol said, brushing away an errant tear and trying to smile, feeling ridiculous.

"Fighting off suitors will do that to a gal." Eric teased, trying to lighten the mood. "I saw Tobin make a beeline for your house this morning when I was having my tea out on the porch."

Carol flashed on a smiling juggling Tobin morphing into a leering menacing Ed, then somehow turning into a walker, pushing her back against the counter, then her trench knife was in her hand, grabbing at his throat with the other hand while stabbing through his temple, apples falling from the counter, from his hands, rolling onto the floor, her hands covered in black walker blood as his body fell among the apples...

"That kind of hurts." Eric said calmly, but with a bit of an edge to his voice.

Carol blinked, coming back to herself. She looked down at her hand, gripping Eric's fingers so tightly his fingernails looked blue and she gasped, releasing it.

"I'm so sorry..." Carol stammered, her hands rising, bird-like to push her short curls behind her ears in a nervous gesture and then awkwardly falling to her lap.

Her face had gone slack, her eyes had been glassy and vacant. Eric knew a flashback when he saw one.

"I'm not going to ask you if you're okay, because obviously you're not." Eric said carefully, "What I will ask you is if Tobin _hurt_ you."

Carol looked up sharply and Eric saw a brief glimpse of something in her eyes so dark and razor sharp steel cold that he thought he must've imagined it when her face fell back into its usual passive calm lines.

"No." Carol said. "Not Tobin. He's persistent but harmless."

"But your husband—"

"Was an asshole. Died in the herd attack on the camp. Got a pickax through his head so he wouldn't turn. He's buried back in Atlanta." Carol said dryly as if she was reciting from a script. "Anything else you need to know?" she asked icily, again downplaying any hint of her true strength.

"I'm the one who's sorry." Eric said, shaking his head, "I didn't mean to pry—"

"I just... miss Daryl...feel stretched too tight, snapping back at you like that. I worry and that gets me thinking about everything we went through out there and knowing he's out there and what else is out there...I worry. It's all I can do." Carol shrugged helplessly.

"I know that _powerlessness_, Carol. I understand it intimately...but I don't think it's all about Daryl." Eric said gently.

Carol stared at him, this kind well-meaning man, wishing she could open up to him, feeling the weight and multitude of her secrets and sins clawing at her mind, trying to push their way into the open air: the woman she was hiding under floral prints and cookies, the deaths of a poor mad little girl and four innocents, two by her hand, two by her too late realization of their vulnerability in the world the way it was now, too late in understanding the truth about the monsters...all of them...living and dead...

Sometimes the best way to hide a bigger lie is to tell a smaller truth.

"You're right..." Carol said, "I had a daughter."

* * *

AN: Two people as emotionally traumatized as Carol and Daryl would likely have a hard time making themselves totally vulnerable. Two weeks sleeping in the same bed, they have yet to have sex.

At this point Daryl is actually in a better place than Carol in the process of working through the reasons they haven't pushed the consummation of their feelings for each other. Daryl is doing the work necessary to start to heal, using the book and asking Aaron for advice.

From the author's statement of purpose for the very real book Daryl took from the Women's Shelter in "Consumed"_: "The concept of the 'interrupted life', which guides this treatment, refers to the disruption caused by abuse to self-regulation and interpersonal capacities that otherwise would have been expected to develop. The treatment is intended to provide the survivors with emotional and social skills they did not have the opportunity to obtain due to the diminished presence of a competent, caring, nurturing parent and the burden of managing the abuse, often alone or in secret."_

Carol isn't there yet. As she told Daryl, "I can't let myself... but you... I know you...you have to let yourself feel it..." She fears that it's only the tight control she has over all of her emotions and impulses, both good and bad, that allows her to keep functioning. Her impulse to violently preemptively defend herself from the attack she expects from Tobin scares her. When she realizes he's not another Ed, that perhaps he's as harmless as Axel, only wanting to get close to a pretty woman he likes, she wonders if she will ever be able to let even the man she loves, Daryl, get close to her. Letting go of her control enough to allow the total emotional and physical intimacy that she needs to have a sexual experience isn't something she thinks she can handle.

She still hasn't told Daryl about Mika and Lizzy and that secret weighs on her. It's an invisible barrier between her and not only Daryl, but the rest of the world. Just like her threat to Sam about the guns, killing Lizzy was a necessary evil to protect her family, but she still feels it as a black mark on her soul. She feels the guilt for Sophia and Mika's deaths even more because they were innocents who she failed to protect.

She likes Eric, but she doesn't trust him enough to explain the true depth of reasons for her little mental flashback/fugue that he witnesses. Telling him "a portion of truth," the story of losing Sophia, reinforces her mask because it happened before she became the woman she is now and so it adds another layer to her disguise.

Thanks for sticking with me! Let me know what you think if you have time.


	4. Chapter 4: Self-Harm

Daryl's return from the recruiting mission finds Carol in a dark place.

Trigger Warnings: mentions of abuse and self-harm coping behavior; sexual situations.

* * *

_**Self-Harm**_

Her kisses were desperate, urgent, more demanding than they had been before. She pressed herself against him, grinding into the jutting hardness under the soft flannel of the sleep pants he wore. The fingers of her right hand gripped his hair at the nape, her left dragging his hand up under her tank top to cup the softness of her breast bumping against the solid wall of his chest.

"Stop. _Stop._" Daryl groaned, resting his forehead on hers, trying to catch his breath. She'd come to bed aloof and agitated but refused to say why, refused to talk about what had happened to her, what had gone wrong while he'd been out with Aaron this time.

The whole Zone was uneasy; the run to the solar panel company had gone bad with both Aidan and Noah lost and Tara hurt. Then closer to home, there had been some incident between Rick and Jessie's husband Pete, forcing Deanna to consider banishment, the decision complicated by the fact he was their only doctor.

Daryl had moved to hold Carol, silently offering a comforting embrace by spooning in behind, but she'd turned in his arms and stared into his eyes with a look of such despair that he'd felt helpless. She reached up and pushed his hair back behind his ear; letting her fingers linger then to brush across his cheekbone, caress his cheek, rubbing her thumb across his lips. He answered her silent question by leaning close and kissing her tenderly.

It was how they'd been before he'd left, taking comfort, but tentative, almost shy with one another. Their sleep clothes remained on, touches confined to faces, arms, shoulders, backs. They were romantic kisses, but somehow carefully innocent. Neither had pushed the unspoken boundary until tonight.

He'd gotten hard as soon as her tongue pushed in to find his, the spearmint of her toothpaste biting and cool, her mouth hot.

"_Make me."_ Carol breathed, capturing his mouth again, pushing him to go further than before. She pulled on his hair, yanking it painfully and her fingernails dug into his forearm, holding his hand to her chest and arching into him.

He'd had a plan. He had. Daryl was going to bring out the book, remind her he had it; show her he was working it, working on healing...

But her small soft, rounded breast with bullet hard nipple digging into his palm, her wet heat barely covered by her boy shorts pulsing against his dick, that smart ass mouth plundering his with unfettered desire clouded his brain.

Daryl brought his other hand up under her shirt, running it across her taut belly, finding her other breast, worrying the nipples of both between thumbs and fingers, pinching down, making her moan into his mouth.

"_Harder."_ she urged, writhing against him.

"_Don' wanna hurt you."_ he said softly, kissing her brow soothingly.

"_Hurt me."_ she begged hoarsely, a sob catching in her throat.

Daryl froze.

"_What?"_ he choked out, wincing, looking at her broken expression; her eyes pools of misery. He reached up to pull her shirt back down and took her upper arms instead, holding her still.

"You're too _gentle_ with me...I can't _stand_ it...I don't _deserve_ it..." Carol whispered, tears spilling over, turning her face to the side to avoid the expected disapprobation in his eyes.

That was so fucked up that at first Daryl didn't know what to say in response. She had never wanted to talk about what it had been like for her—the specifics of that part of her life with Ed—but this made him feel like it must have been as cruel and unforgiving a time as his had been with his father.

"_Bullshit."_ Daryl growled, resisting the urge to just shake her, instead trying to think of something to ask, something to say to help her. She was in a dark place, had been since the prison and the choices she'd made there that had resulted in her banishment. Whatever had happened on the road with the girls...he'd seen it in her after Terminus, had tried to pull her back from the edge all the way up till Atlanta when his own darkness took hold...

"You don't deserve to be hurt." Daryl rasped. "You don't deserve no more pain."

Carol struggled against his hold then.

"_Let me go."_ the plea was torn from her. She meant more than the tight grip he had on her arms and he knew it. He was her tether to this life; their love and their family all that kept her going.

Instead he pulled her closer, enveloping her in his arms.

"Won't." Daryl assured her, trying to let her know that she was safe, that he understood.

"_I can't...I can't...I can't..."_ she chanted over and over, sobbing into his chest, her emotions like thin ice underfoot, cracking under the weight of his care.

_.**..**_**_if I'm going to hell, I'm making damn sure I'm holding it off as long as I can..._**

Daryl was haunted by what she'd said in Atlanta. He thought she needed to let go of whatever it was she felt had damned her, to feel it, to break, but he was terrified he didn't know how to put her back together again if she did.

"Whatever happened? It don't matter." Daryl said, leaning his scruffy cheek on the top of her head. He felt her try to control her breathing, try to listen to him. "Whatever you had to do, you did it to protect the ones needed protectin'. Just like you always do. Whatever you need...I'm _here._.."

Carol's fingers worried at the ridges of ropey scar tissue on his back through his t-shirt. He felt her chest rise and fall, synching his own breaths with hers, trying to help ease the pain and regret she still held on to. He rubbed his hands up and down her back, soothing her.

"You deserve gentle." Daryl murmured, kissing the top of her head and then gave a long low sigh, "So do I. For _all _the shit we been through. All the times we been hurt? That ain't how it's s'posed to be."

Carol leaned her head back so she could look at him and he saw a flicker of something, disbelief? in her luminous eyes.

Daryl's gaze went to her lips; swollen from the punishing kisses she had been giving him and then back up to her eyes.

Could he do this? Show her he was the man she believed he'd become? Strong, caring...gentle? Daryl leaned closer, their breath mingling.

"Not gonna hurt you." he said, "_Never_ hurt you." his lips brushed hers, his tongue lightly tracing the seam between them.

Carol's hands stilled on his back, gripping his shirt, trembling as he softly kissed her. He felt the resistance in her, her unbending strength fighting against letting him in, letting herself really feel what he was trying to give her.

Carol knew she could handle pain, rough punishing fucking without feeling would bring her welcome numbing, take her back to her marriage bed, hiding in plain sight, letting her husband use her body to sate his lust with no care for her feelings or satisfaction. Sex was just another bargaining chip—fuck me, beat me, rape me—and not our daughter, not your own innocent child. Destroy me, but let my child live. Never gentle, never caring, never mattered. Screams of pain, cries of agony, whimpers begging for it to be over... and then she learned to just go away, into the numbness; leave her body to him, returning only when he was done to mend it, tend the broken or twisted parts, ice the bruises, and wipe away the blood.

She thought after he was gone (the satisfaction of pounding his head into a bloody pulp was her declaration of independence) there would be time to reclaim her true self from the numbness. But all there had been were more losses, her daughter, friends, more daughters, more friends, piling up like the kindling for the bonfire that was burning the world to a cinder. The dead were her constant companions now.

Daryl was her light in the dark, her tiny candle burning, reminding her that she was still alive, still had hope. He was the most dangerous thing she'd ever tried. He could destroy her with his promises:_ We're still here; We get to start over, with each other; We ain't ashes..._but then why could she taste them, dry and bitter on her tongue?

He didn't know. She couldn't tell him. No one living knew. What she'd done. There amongst the pecan trees. The dead were her secret keepers.

Daryl murmured her name against her lips and she let him kiss her more deeply, suddenly wanting that, wanting drugging mindless passion, believing that could be enough to trigger the numbness. She tried pushing him, nipping, pulling, scratching at him, but he slowed her, gentled her, used his hands, smoothing across her flesh in whisper light touches, his tongue tasting and exploring, adoring her body.

_She shattered._

He didn't use her. He made it _about_ her. Her body, her pleasure; her screams were ecstasy, her cries delight, her whimpers for more...

_She shattered._

When his face was buried, tongue deep inside her, giving her the most intense orgasm she'd ever felt...

_She shattered._

When he asked, didn't tell, didn't force or grab and then wept when he saw her fear and _stopped_ until she was ready...

_She shattered._

When she stared into his eyes as he lay beside her, feeling each other's heart beating where they were still joined and _told_ him...

Daryl held her, all her broken pieces, in his arms and listened.

* * *

**AN:** Carol is at a place where she cannot let herself feel-she experienced a dissociative episode flashbacks when talking to Tobin &amp; Eric in the previous chapter. Trying to handle the possible abuse of Sam &amp; Jessie; Noah's death piled on top of Beth &amp; Ty as well as everything she'd been holding in since The Grove has pushed her into a place where she's having trouble coping.

Wanting Daryl to "hurt" her to send her into more numbness is a form of self harm, but sadly, one she became habituated to in her marriage; in my head canon, it used to come when she was being abused by Ed. She experienced the feeling that she was leaving her body behind and her mind went to a safe "numb" place, something that abuse survivors may use as a coping mechanism.

Daryl counters this with the exact opposite of how Ed treated her; loving her, and it breaks her, releasing her emotions and giving her the freedom to finally tell him what happened to Mika &amp; Lizzy.

_"There is an association between traumatic events and the process of dissociation. It may be that dissociation is a way the mind/brain contends with overwhelming stimuli. ... For example, many people who have experienced a traumatic event, such as physical or sexual abuse, may have some aspect of dissociation during the event itself and will be unable to recall details regarding their victimization. For many people diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), dissociative episodes may be a very troubling symptom of their illness."_

Read more here: NAMI, the National Association on Mental Disorders

Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think if you have time.


	5. Chapter 5: Better than Chocolate

A bit of fluff for you after the angst of the last two chapters: Carol prepares to head off for rifle training.

* * *

_**Better than Chocolate**_

_Your love  
is better than chocolate  
Better than anything else that I've tried  
and oh love is better than chocolate.  
Everyone here knows how to cry_

and it's a long way down  
it's a long way down  
it's a long way  
Down to the place where we started from.  
-"Better than Ice Cream," Writers: Tim Watson, Tim Wildman; Sung by Sarah McLaughlin

* * *

"And what are you looking for today, Carol? I'll warn you right now, for some reason I'm running a little low on chocolate-" Olivia asked with a friendly, slightly apologetic smile, unlocking the door to the house that acted as both pantry and armory for the Zone.

"Not this time—I need to sign out a rifle and some ammo—going out for target practice this morning." Carol said with an over bright cheery smile.

"You know, they used to say chocolate gave you the same feelings as being in love—or having good sex—can't remember which—but someone must believe that the way it's been going missing around here!" Olivia said thoughtfully.

Carol gave her a droll stare, wondering if she was being accused of something.

"Of course all yours goes into those wonderful cookies!" she chuckled, as if the idea that gray haired Carol would have even _thought_ about sex or love was amusing.

"That's me—the cookie lady working all alone in my sparkling clean kitchen." Carol plastered on her best complacent smile.

"So you're up and at it early!" Olivia nodded, pausing to put her hand on her hip and look Carol up and down. "And dressed for heading outside too."

Carol had on a print floral blouse and the light denim jacket that had been Noah's, over a pair of khakis tucked in her boots.

"Don't want to muss my nice new things—you know how it is—men run you through brambles and dirt thinking they're toughening you up." Carol laughed airily, briefly putting her hand conspiratorially on the other woman's arm.

"Do you want to wait for _him_ to pick out a gun then?" Olivia asked, holding back her grin, as she led Carol through to the armory. "Your _instructor_?"

"No—I already have my orders—Remington 700SPS with a scope and 7mm-08 cartridges please." Carol said with casual confidence.

Olivia stopped, turned around and blinked owlishly at her.

"Did I say it wrong?" Carol blanched. "I memorized what he told me—wrote it down and everything..." She pulled what looked like a hand written recipe card out of her jacket pocket.

Olivia looked relieved. A Carol with weapons expertise was an anomaly for which she was not prepared.

"That was a good idea!" she congratulated Carol and pulled the inventory list off of the wall, matching the number each rifle was tagged with to the description Carol had given her and then pulling it off the gun rack.

"Did he say what one he wanted?" Olivia asked, handing over the weapon.

"Gee—I didn't even think to ask—I guess I was just focused on getting my own." Carol said apologetically, frowning.

"Well—Tobin usually takes out the Winchester 70—"

"Olivia? You back there, hon?" Sarah, one of the women who had befriended happy homemaker Carol called from the front of the storeroom, interrupting Olivia.

"Be there in a sec!" Olivia hollered back.

"He said I should get that 9 mm with the silencer I had out before as well—for a backup." Carol added.

"Okay—you can get that yourself, right? They're in that footlocker." Olivia told her, indicating the very one from which she had taken the three handguns last week. "Silencers are in that bin." And then she bustled away to tend to her new customer, leaving Carol alone with the guns...

Carol shook her head and sighed, thinking of all the trouble they—she—had gone through to get this same access the night of the welcome party. How she'd inadvertently started them all down a path with Pete and Jessie by making a connection with Sam.

She grabbed up the handgun, silencer and a box of ammo that would work in it as well as in the previously pilfered gun, and headed up front. She could hear the other women chatting and slowed her steps to listen.

"Going out there like they do for days at a time? If I had a man I'd be worried about more than _biters_ latching onto him..." Sarah was saying with a smirk, her voice low and fast.

Carol stopped before she could easily be seen by the women, aware of the caveat about not expecting to hear anything good about one's self when eavesdropping.

"But they're practically married, right? I mean that's why they originally got tapped as recruiters, so they could spend all their time together." Olivia asked.

"That's exactly what I mean! Would you like it if your spouse was out there with sexy motorcycle leather crossbow guy because you broke your ankle?" Sarah returned with a huff.

"Damn. You really think he swings that way? There go all my fantasies about gettin' me some redneck love—I mean the arms _alone_ make me swoon..." Olivia tittered, holding her hand to her chest.

"Arms, shoulders—a butt you could bounce quarters of? Hell yes." Sarah sighed and both women giggled like teenagers.

Carol had heard about enough.

"I could use some day rations too I guess." She said brightly, coming down the hall. "Not sure if we'll be back by lunch time."

"Oh hey, Carol!" Sarah said and then looked a little surprised by Carol's attire and weapons array.

"Hi Sarah." Carol said in a friendly (but not overly so) way and then continued her request to Olivia for more supplies. "Some granola bars, bottled water, applesauce maybe?"

"Carol's getting in some rifle training." Olivia explained, moving to fulfill Carol's request, grabbing things off of shelves and tucking them in a cloth bag for her.

"Better safe than sorry." Carol smiled and shrugged.

Sarah nodded, frowning a bit, but agreeing.

"You came in with him, right? Dixon, the new recruiter?" Sarah asked glancing over at Olivia with a conspiratorial twinkle in her eye.

Olivia paused, suddenly more interested in Carol's reply than her work.

Carol pulled the rifle strap over her head carefully, settling it on her back, wincing and pushing it back when it clanked against the leg holster into which she had put the 9 mm.

"And then maybe some of that chocolate?" Carol asked, hinting that the information they sought could be had for a price...

Olivia grinned and quickly moved to get her one of the small pre-portioned allotted sections of chocolate bar.

"So?" Sarah asked, sidling closer to Carol. "What his story? Daryl? Inquiring minds want to know."

Carol smiled to herself. Without the supermarket rags and trash TV, they had only local goings on to gossip about, especially hook-ups. That was one thing that people never seemed to tire of ferreting out.

Olivia stuck the chocolate in Carol's bag and pulled the draw string tight before handing it over.

"Good fighter...brave...saved us all more times than I can count, kept us fed with his hunting," Carol told them, taking the bag and giving them a sad little smile, adding quietly, "Found formula for the baby when her mother, Rick's wife Lori, passed."

Sarah and Olivia looked at each other and then back to Carol, their expression a bit ashamed and full of sympathy.

"I'm sorry, Carol—you people have really been through the wringer and we're talking like it's an episode of _The Bachelor_..." Sarah apologized.

"_Redneck edition_..." Carol said archly, a wicked little grin dimpling her cheek, letting them off the hook a bit.

Sarah and Olivia chuckled in relief, glad to know that they hadn't completely offended their new friend.

The sound of Daryl's motorcycle reverberated down the street outside.

"Speak of the devil." Sarah said, peeking out the window to see which way he was going.

"I didn't think they were heading out again so, what with all the business with..." Olivia's voice trailed off, looking over at Carol meaningfully. Rick and Pete's brawl had been a big event around here.

The roar of the bike abruptly cut off.

"I—I think he's coming in _here._" Sarah said, backing away from the window to look expectantly and a little breathlessly at the door.

Daryl pushed it open without knocking, striding into the room, tawny shoulders and muscular arms shown off by his sleeveless blue denim shirt under his leather vest. His relatively well-fitting brown pants were tied off around the ankles, and his shit kickers still looked like they deserved the name, but his hair actually looked clean and maybe even deliberately spit trained off his face, his eyes sparking vivid blue under glowering brows.

"Ladies," he greeted them gruffly; you could tell he was on his best behavior, but uncomfortable.

"Mr. Dixon—what can I help you with today?" Olivia asked, sounding a bit breathless but striving for efficient.

"Headin' out for the day—need my guns." Daryl growled, and his tone said he hadn't heard such a stupid question yet today.

Carol cleared her throat.

"If it ain't too much trouble, please?" Daryl amended, refusing to look at Carol.

"No trouble—you can come right back here with me." Olivia smiled up at him with fan girl-like adoration and sashayed her way down the hall to the armory, making Daryl's right eye twitch in a wince.

Daryl chanced a quick glare at Carol, who bit the inside of her cheek to keep a straight face when he walked by, following Olivia.

"I do believe being around Aaron and Eric so much has been good for him." Sarah whispered to Carol. "He's looking a lot less feral these days."

"When we first saw Aaron he was so clean he didn't seem real—it was like he stepped out of a J. Crew ad..." Carol mused, "I guess worse things could rub off on him."

" Must make him a bit easier to live with—I hear he smelled so ridiculously bad you made him sleep out on the porch till he took a shower." Sarah teased.

There had been quite some curiosity about the groups' accommodations. After they had finally all stopped staying in the same house they had only taken over two more, all next to each other. Rick and his children lived with Carol, Michonne, Sasha and Daryl in one of them, but no one was quite sure of the sleeping arrangements.

"Something like that," Carol replied with a trace of a smile, remembering his jibe to her that day on the porch.

"Well, he cleans up nicely. More than one woman here's wondered what's up with him. At first we thought maybe he and Sasha had a thing, but then when he started spending all his time at the _boys_..." Sarah fished.

"You got everythin' you need?" Daryl said, coming back into the front entry and stopping next to Carol, who nodded yes.

"Liv even popped for some chocolate." Carol held up her bag of supplies and wiggled it back and forth.

Daryl actually grinned.

"Only think of a few things better than chocolate," Daryl said in what could only be described as gravel laced purr. He gave a deferential nod to Olivia. "Thanks."

Both Olivia and Sarah looked confused.

"Yes, thank you, Olivia. Be back before sundown." Carol said, "Have a great day." She smiled at Sarah to include her and headed out the door, followed by Daryl, who pulled the door shut behind him.

The two other women pressed their faces against the window overlooking the street. They watched as Daryl came up beside Carol and placed his hand on her lower back to guide her towards the bike parked in the street, taking the cloth bag from her and placing it in the saddlebags. He pulled off his vest and handed it to her so he could put on a leather sleeved jacket, then donned the vest over it. Carol buttoned up her light coat and then he dug back in the saddle bags and handed her a leather jacket. She looked surprised and gave him such a look of pleased adoration it made Sarah give a little gasp. Carol stood up on her tiptoes and placed a little kiss on Daryl's cheek.

"_Awww..."_ Olivia sighed softly.

Then Daryl wrapped his arms around Carol and lifted her off her feet so he could kiss her thoroughly, in full view of God and the entire ASZ.

"Well, that's match that could only be made in the Apocalypse..." Sarah huffed.

"Here." Olivia nudged her with an elbow.

Sarah heard the distinct snap of a lonely chocolate bar being sectioned for sharing.

* * *

**AN:** I tried to subtly work in the lyrics to the McReedus composed "Caryl" song in honor of their scheduled appearance on Jimmy Kimmel this week;-)

_Carol is sterile_  
_and Daryl is feral_  
_A match_  
_made_  
_in hell..._

Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6: Queen Anne's Lace

_**Queen Anne's Lace**_

_In the language of flowers, Queen Anne's Lace represents sanctuary and delicate femininity_._ It is so called because the flower resembles lace; the red flower in the center is thought to represent a blood droplet where Queen Anne, wife of James I of Great Britain, pricked herself with a needle when she was making the lace. It is also known as Wild Carrot and has an edible root that was used as an herbal contraceptive._

* * *

"So anythin' else new goin' on back there I need to know about?" Daryl asked as Carol walked pensively beside him.

She made a brief side to side head motion of negation and kept walking, looking ahead.

They had been outside the walls for her "rifle training" about an hour now, making their way to a tumble down wooden fence row against an embankment that more or less served as a shooting range for the community. About eight miles from the ASZ, Aaron had pointed it out the first time he and Daryl had met up while on their quest for Buttons the horse.

He didn't like how inward Carol's mood had turned after leaving the gates of their new community. He knew she was concerned over the tensions that merging their group into the already established one in Alexandria, that she was worried about Tara's injuries, especially in light of the trouble with Pete and hurt over the loss of Noah. He also thought that maybe she even felt guilty that they had started to find some small measure of happiness together when so many other things were uncertain and unsettled.

He knew her outward serenity masked a sea of emotion. What she had shared with him about the girls, how they had been lost had been heart breaking and infuriating. She'd done what had to be done, alone, and then had given herself over to Ty with a confession that very well could've ended her. He'd almost lost her; _again. _She seemed intent on spending every one of those nine lives...

Daryl stopped, surveying their surroundings, listening for any noise that would betray they'd been followed or had company, living or dead. Carol followed suit, her left hand on the brass knuckle hilt of her trench knife.

"You hear something?" she whispered.

Daryl held up a hand to silence her, on full alert, but slowly relaxed his stance, finally shaking his head no and shouldering his bow.

"Suppose since we're here we should shoot." Carol said, pulling the rifle strap over her head with ease, making him chuckle at her, remembering the little show she'd put on for Olivia and the others when they'd been made to check in their weapons.

Carol's mouth quirked up at the corner, not looking at him as she went forward to set up some of the bottles and cans piled up by the fence as targets.

Daryl came forward to help, but saw that she'd been distracted by the white topped tall wildflowers that were scattered all around the field like umbrellas for fairies. She ran her open hands over them, smiling a little at the sensation, the way they tickled her palms.

"Queen Anne's Lace." She said quietly, looking down at the tiny white petals, each miniature blossom part of the larger flower head with a blood red center.

Daryl reached down and pulled at the stem of one, but instead of just plucking the flower off at the stem he ripped the entire plant out from the ground, exposing the roots and then worked to wipe them free of the dark earth that clung to them.

Carol looked puzzled and a bit like she was ready to berate him for his actions.

"Wild carrot." Daryl said, and having cleaned the root to his satisfaction, stuck it in his mouth and crunched down on it. Noticing her frown he looked abashed. He pulled out his knife and with one slice trimmed the stem to about six inches and then sheathed his knife.

"S'good." He mumbled around his mouthful of carrot root. "Pretty too." He added shyly and held the flower out to her as an offering.

Carol had a sudden vision of a flower crown like the ones she used to make from the frothy blooms for Sophia, a lacy diadem for innocent sunny summer days; remembering the other white flower he had given her once, a symbol of hope turned to ashes; then the last words she'd said to Lizzy...

Daryl saw her eyes fill with tears as she looked at the flower and then reached out a shaking hand to take it from him. He stepped in, instead lifting the bloom and gently pushing it and a curl of hair behind her ear, letting his hand cup her cheek, his thumb catching the tear that spilled over.

Carol felt lightheaded with relief.

She didn't have to do this alone any more.

Last night she had told Daryl everything and he had stayed. He had stayed and he had shared his own darkness with her. They had given each other a safe place, a sanctuary where nothing was held back, where understanding was possible, where they didn't have to wear any masks or costumes and hide from anyone, even themselves.

"I'm worried." Carol said, putting her arms around him, feeling his warmth seep into her, his scent, leather and smoke and sweat sink into her, his solidity comforting and familiar.

"Just means you're alive." Daryl said; that he too was worried was something he would never admit to another living soul; especially that what he was most afraid of was losing her again. He held her, remembering how he'd run, clung, spun her, lifted her after Terminus; how he'd held her last night, watched her face as she unfolded, petal like, to him as he made love to her, how she'd sobbed, broken and spent after she'd finally explained Lizzy's madness and her despair; how she'd soothed and held him as he told her how he'd gotten his scars, trading horror stories.

They'd made love again at dawn, exhausted, slow, half awake, staring into each other's eyes, barely moving, side by side. He wanted to live inside her, soft breasts and belly pressed against him, small strong calloused hands gripping his hair, neck, shoulders, arms, back, urging him on, soft strong thighs lifted around his hips, the slip squelch of his cock sliding up and into her wet warm waiting depths, his hands grasping, gripping her hips, moving her on him, sighs and cries muted by kisses lest they wake their house mates.

He'd never felt more alive than in those hours, safe in her arms.

Daryl lifted her chin, placing a chaste kiss on her soft pink lips, still unused to the liberty to do so, easing away from her, letting his hand fall away.

"Don't..." Carol murmured, gripping the back of his vest to keep him close and lifting her face, silently asking for another.

Daryl leaned back to her in fits and starts, wary of showing her how much he wanted her again, knowing both of their emotions were still so close to the surface; knowing that this between them was still new, fragile. This time when he touched his lips to hers she responded by immediately kissing him back, her mouth moving over his with potent desire, taking control of the kiss, deepening it, opening to him.

Daryl whimpered out a noise of surrender, tasting, drawing her tongue into his mouth. He felt her hand pulling at the bottom of his vest, slipping under his shirt to find the heated skin at his belt line and dipping below, under his jeans to squeeze the fine firm flesh of his ass.

"Hey!" he hooted in surprise, ripping his mouth from hers, his eyes wide and dick snapping to attention.

Carol looked up at him innocently, all the while sliding her hands forward while still inside his loose waistband, making him start to sweat.

The hollow growl and stumbling shuffle of a walker snapping its way through the underbrush behind them threw a bucket of cold water on them both, belatedly realizing that out in the open like this wasn't the best place to start something.

Pulling apart they both raised their weapons towards the sound of the approaching dead one. When it came into sight Daryl was relived it was an adult, male, almost unrecognizable in its heavy state of decay. He motioned for Carol to take it out and she did it with quick precision, clean, right through the eye socket.

They came closer to check it out, Daryl taking the time to bend close and examine its head carefully while Carol frowned at him.

"Think there's more?" Carol asked, looking all around for any signs of more movement. The things like to congregate, creating the deadly herds.

"Could be. Let's head back to the highway. Might take out a few more on the way." Daryl shrugged, pulling his bow over his shoulder by the strap.

Carol smiled at him, how handsome he looked with his cheeks still a bit flushed and lips puffy. She shouldered her weapon as well, but chose the opposite arm, deliberately leaving the hand next to him free to see what he'd do.

"Things are on edge inside." Carol told him as they walked. "Rick's tight-roping a razor..." That Michonne had to break up the fight between their erstwhile leader and Pete had been troubling. Carol hadn't missed the way the good citizens of Alexandria were giving the constable a wide berth after Deanna had put him on "leave" while she investigated. Questions about how he had acquired his gun were sure to follow once things had settled down. She thought she could count on Sam to stay quiet, but it was still quite possible that it would be Rick and her and not Pete who would be banished.

"They try to kick anybody...any of _us_... out...if we have to take the place, we will." Daryl assured her, taking her hand in his as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do. Yet there was a note of unease in his voice. He'd grown to like Aaron and Eric especially and he also wanted Carl and Jude to have a sanctuary, a chance at a life. Leaving wasn't something he wanted to have to consider.

"Or we could just all leave." Carol countered, looking up at his face. It was a daunting prospect—they both knew how hard life on the road would be.

"Ain't givin' up those walls." Daryl grumbled in dissent, shaking his head.

"You and Aaron found something out there, didn't you?" Carol asked, "You were looking for something on that walker just now."

Daryl sighed and pulled out his knife, walking over to the closest tree and carving a "W" into the bark.

"Like the one at the little house?" Carol asked, "Where we met up before?"

"'Chonne told me it was on walkers in Richmond too—someone chopped 'em up, legs, arms—had a load of what was left in a truck. Aaron n' me found more like that and a woman..." the Archer winced and grimaced, the tortured blonde they'd found, stripped and left tied to a tree as a living feast for walkers still sickened him.

"Daryl?" Carol asked, not really sure she wanted to know.

"Worst sort. Like Gareth n' them maybe." Daryl said. "Still several day's drive from here, but getting closer. Aaron's meeting with Deanna n' Maggie today to explain what we seen. Get some strategizin' done."

"These people are nowhere near ready for something like that!" Carol said, her voice rising, pulling her hand from his to gesture emphatically. "We need every one of our people on alert—armed and ready. My God—if there's an attack? A real fucking attack on that place, but from _people,_ not walkers?"

Daryl watched as she ran her hands back through her hair in agitation, inadvertently dislodging the flower he'd given her which floated to the ground.

"We have to get back—talk to Deanna—explain to her what has to be done." Carol told him, and he could see her wheels turning, the plans being made. This was a Carol who wouldn't take no for an answer.

"The feral loner and the cookie lady?" Daryl asked skeptically, reminding her of their best disguises, his intransigence and her invisibility.

"I think you blew that when you decided to make out with me on Main Street this morning." Carol said dryly. Anyone seeing that display would have some serious questions about the way they both had been presenting themselves up to now.

The delicate pattern of half-truths Carol had been weaving as her camouflage was unraveling, and none too soon as far as Daryl was concerned.

Daryl leaned down and picked up the lacy bloom she'd lost, twirling it in his hand.

"Let's head back." Daryl nodded, agreeing, handing her the flower and then taking her hand in his again, "Talk to Deanna."

* * *

Caryl: Daryl is the root; Carol is the flower, the plant needs both to survive.

Sources of info on Queen Anne's Lace are the websites: lacefairy; teleflora; and Vancouver florist 

Thanks for reading! Thanks to all who have favorited &amp; are following this one! And especially to those who take the time to review-I appreciate everyone &amp; will get caught up responding after the Finale this week!

DD1


	7. 7: a mausoleum of all hope and desire

"_**...a mausoleum of all hope and desire..."**_

_"I give you a mausoleum of all hope and desire, which will fit your individual needs no better than it did mine, or my father's before me. I give it to you, not that you may remember time, but that you may forget it, for a moment, now and then, and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it."_

\- Dale Horvath, "Vatos" TWD: S1

* * *

It had happened so fast.

They'd been on their way back to the ASZ, Carol quietly frantic about the threat from without and within, when Aaron had found them.

Daryl swung the bike up next to the driver side window of the old red beater car, cutting the engine so their voices could be heard.

"We need to head back out—_now_." Aaron said, his usual placidly warm expression marred by a deeply furrowed forehead and frown.

"With all that's going on?" Carol said before Daryl could reply.

"Sasha just came back in—told us she found more walkers with the W carved into their foreheads." Aaron explained.

"She was out alone? Again?" Carol gave an angry exclamation. The sharpshooter's aim was never in question; her lack of good judgment in these solo forays however, was a sore subject.

"Damn it. Where?" Daryl asked, as always, on alert. He felt Carol's hands on his waist tense, gripping tighter.

"Southwest; same direction we found the last bunch—but a lot closer this time. Deanna wants us to see if there's anybody out there pushing them..._making_them..." Aaron said, looking uncomfortable. The idea that there was some unknown force moving towards them was what Daryl had been warning him about since their first trip beyond the walls.

"_Shit."_ Daryl bit out, lowering his head. The last thing he wanted to do right now was leave again, but it was also his duty to their new community to be out there as part of the vanguard.

None of them said anything for a minute or two, Aaron and Carol both knowing it took Daryl a bit to fully process.

"You have to go—we need to know what's coming—it'll help convince Deanna." Carol finally said.

"Convince her of what?" Aaron asked, sounding bitter. "That there are threats she can't even imagine? Eric and I have been trying to get that point across since the beginning. Losing Aiden is the first thing that's finally got her head out of her ass."

Both Carol and Daryl stared at him in surprise. Aaron had always seemed to hold the leader of the ASZ in high regard.

"Let's just say Maggie and my talk with her should've been refereed by the good Father." Aaron said.

"Had a come to Jesus moment, did she?" Daryl said wryly. "'bout time."

Combined with what Rick had done in confronting Pete, finally Deanna had been forced to face reality. Sequestered in their little walled city since the beginning, they were unprepared for the kinds of things that the group of which Carol and Daryl were a part of had already survived, at great personal cost.

"I'm coming with you." Carol said in a tone that brooked no argument. Daryl looked like he was about to try anyhow, but was forestalled by Aaron's quick interruption.

"Carol? I know. That you're..." he looked down at her boots, her knife, handgun and the rifle she carried at her back. "..._more_ than Junior League material." he quirked her a smile and met her eyes. "Maggie told me what you did for the group at Terminus. I know that they need you back there—_I _need you back there-for _Eric._"

Their friendship may have been new, but Carol understood the depth of Aaron's feelings for his partner. They had that same bone deep devotion that she saw in Maggie and Glenn, who she used to envy watching their easy intimacy, wishing for that with someone too.

Daryl reached his left hand down, pulling hers from his side to the front, flattening it against his tensed abs, holding it tightly.

"The meeting's tomorrow night. Rick's gonna need all the help he can get." Aaron reminded them. "You need to be there to speak to it."

Though Maggie, Glenn and Michonne would vouch for him, Carol knew better than anyone the folly of thinking banishment was the best solution. She sighed as Daryl shifted uneasily in his seat.

"And your people—Tara's still out of it and then there are Rick's kids?" Aaron added, his last best argument, reminding her of the vulnerability of those they loved.

Carol's stomach lurched, thinking of Judith, Carl... _Sam..._

"All right. We're only a mile or so from the gates." Carol said decisively, nodding in agreement with Aaron and releasing her hold on Daryl so she could slide off the bike.

"_No way."_ Daryl said, refusing to let her hand go. He looked up at Aaron. "I'll take her back. I'm only goin' with you if I know she's safe inside."

The two men stared each other down until Carol snorted at them.

"Fine—let's go then, we're wasting time." Carol put her right hand on Daryl's elbow and slid it up to grip his bicep through the leather sleeve of his jacket. She didn't take it as a slight to her ability to protect herself that Daryl wanted to get her safe inside the walls. What would take her a careful hour to trek they could drive in a few minutes and then he and Aaron could be on their way.

"I'll be here." Aaron nodded to them both, but then spoke directly to Carol in a quiet sincere voice. "Thank you."

Carol nodded back and Daryl jump-started the bike. She resumed her hold around his waist with both hands, her front flush to his back and this time leaning the side of her head against the wings adorning his leather vest.

* * *

"The range of the walkies is at best ten miles—hope we won't have to push out beyond that, but if we do I'll mark a trail." Daryl said to Eric and Deanna who stood next to Carol while Daryl did a quick check of the supplies in his saddle bags. Carol handed him a fresh canteen and Deanna passed him two boxes of ammo, one for each of the guns he carried, which he stowed as well.

"I know you and Aaron know what you're doing out there, but hear me when I say we can't have you bringing trouble to our doorstep—you see them? Whoever these people are? marking the dead? Gather as much intel as you can, but do _not_ engage them." Deanna said in that calm but forceful way in which she always gave orders.

"Yes ma'am." Daryl said dryly, sounding as if he wanted to pop her a mock salute but thought the better of it.

"We'll hold down the fort...you two watch your asses out there." Eric said, clasping arms with Daryl.

Daryl looked up at the walls—_yeah; __fort__ was about right—wall you in so you think you're safe and tight, but they could become a tomb just as easy..._and then nodded back at Eric who let go and backed away, trying to give Carol some privacy to say her goodbye.

However it seemed that Deanna was not up on the latest relationship gossip in the Zone.

"One more thing, Dixon—" the older woman began, but Daryl had already snaked his hand out to pull Carol close, wrapping her up in a tight embrace, his forehead resting on her shoulder.

Eric touched Deanna's arm, and she briefly glanced up, stepping back towards him, but then her eyes automatically went to the fascinating scene playing out in front of them.

Neither of the couple spoke—they had no need for words. Each understood how the other felt, knew their heart's desire intimately. They'd been apart before, would be again, but they always found their way back to each other.

Daryl lifted his head and raised his hands to cup Carol's face so he could press a kiss to her brow. She smiled at him and he chuckled at her and then he kissed her full on the lips, deeply and thoroughly as if he could express everything he felt for her in that one action. After, he continued to hold her close.

"Aaron's waiting." Carol said softly, finally breaking the spell, always the practical pragmatic one.

"Be back soon as we can." Daryl assured her and she nodded, as much of a goodbye as they would utter.

Daryl released his hold on her and stepped back, dipping in his jacket pocket for the expensive Wayfarer sunglasses that Aaron had given him as a joke when he'd found them in a car they'd scavenged on their last trip out. In his head he could hear Merle's obnoxious cackle calling him a "pussy" or worse for wearing them as he pulled them on. _Fuck it—they protected his eyes and made it easier to see in the Virginia glare—he'd wear whatever the hell he wanted to._

Carol gave him a little grin when she saw the defiant scowl that donning the shades had put there.

"_Bad-ass."_ She mouthed and he responded with a grunted chuckle, swinging his long leg over the bike and then starting the Frankenstein's metallic monster. Carol opened the gates and watched him roar through, taking her heart with him.

"You and Mr. Dixon seem to have left something out in your interviews." Deanna said, strolling up to Carol as they watched the Archer speed away.

Carol pulled the locking mechanism into place and then the heavy screen for the gate closed and turned to face the other woman, but before she could reply, Eric interrupted.

"My fault—mine and Aaron's—we sort of...well, we did a little post-apocalyptic match making!" he said impishly.

"So you weren't together—before? Out there?" Deanna asked, her gaze narrowing as she looked at Carol's hybrid costume today—half housewife, half Lara Croft, the black leather jacket, boots and khakis contrasting with the floral blouse and pearl earrings.

"Who had time for anything like that?" Carol said mildly. "Out there? It was about day to day survival, nothing else mattered. Daryl was good to me—protected me. Kept me alive-kept all of us alive and fed when he could. Here? Here we have time to breathe, to wonder, to hope,_ to desire_ for more..."

"Once we scraped a few layers of grime of off him, house trained him and found out he had a thing for Mrs. P, the rest was easy." Eric smirked. "Our love rubbed off on him."

Deanna smiled indulgently at the former recruiter. She understood very well why Aaron had been so keen to draft Dixon for the post Eric had been forced to vacate by his injury. True love was a rarity that she knew they needed to cultivate in this new world order. The miracle that she had come through the first two years of the plague with her husband and sons was something she would never take for granted again. She didn't know what she would've done without Reg to get her through the last days after Aiden...

"And perhaps Daryl has rubbed off a bit on Carol?" Deanna offered, forcing her mind away from the sad thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her and pointing to Carol's rifle and clothes instead.

"Safer on the bike-out there." Carol gestured vaguely beyond the walls, and then added in a 'just between us girl's' voice, "Daryl _insisted_...he gave me the jacket this morning—not quite my style, but he seemed so happy to give me a gift... I couldn't say no."

Deanna noted the warmth and soft blush on Carol's cheeks as she spoke about Daryl, remembering the tenderness the gruff man had used in how he spoke to and touched _her_. She found herself nodding slowly in approval.

"Well, I'm happy for you both...and sorry for you two that Aaron and Daryl have to be out there right now, but it's important work they're doing." She addressed the last to Eric as well as Carol.

"Thank you." Carol smiled, but then took hold of Eric's wrist, turning it so she could see his watch. "Is that really the time? If you'll excuse me—I really need to go get changed and cleaned up so I can get to work on time."

"Have a good day, Carol. Thank you for all you're doing for us here." Deanna said warmly.

Carol nodded in reply and then gave Eric's arm a squeeze before she took off at a brisk pace, heading for the pantry/armory to return her weapons.

"Tobin know yet?" Deanna asked Eric when Carol was out of hearing range.

"You think he'll cause a problem?" Eric asked.

"Only if he doesn't know and runs afoul of Dixon when he comes a calling on her. Why don't we make Tobin's reassignment to the garden project sooner rather than later? I'd rather not have him going outside the walls with a gun just now."

"I'll see to it." Eric assured her. Though Maggie had taken on the official Aide de Camp title for Deanna's cabinet of sorts, Eric was her go to guy for Human Resource issues, his new job assignment.

"Can I bum a ride?" Deanna asked, feeling a wave of weariness hit her all of the sudden. This was going to be a long stressful day waiting for any word back from the mission she'd sent Aaron and Daryl out on. Tomorrow's town meeting to discuss the fate of Rick Grimes also weighed heavily on her heart.

Eric smiled and reached back to grab his crutches from where he'd leaned them against the town wall beside them.

"My chariot awaits." He said smoothly, and they headed towards his golf cart.

They paused when they heard the hollow thud of someone or something pounding against the metal walls, an irregular beat, then recognized the low guttural moans of the dead. They exchanged a look and then turned as one to find the lonely figure in the clock tower. The sun glinted off Sasha's rifle scope and then they heard the fine high pitched whining howl of the silenced weapon and the jolt of each impact as she picked off the walkers outside one by one. They waited until the last moans and thumps were gone before they spoke again.

"Ten." Eric said.

"Eleven." Deanna corrected with a sharp negative nod.

"Getting bigger groups—more of them every day. You really going to send him out there?" Eric asked, both knowing of whom he was speaking.

"I'll do what I have to do. You and Eric know that better than anyone. You had to carry out my last decision on that account." Deanna reminded him. She wondered what had become of them, those she had banished so early on, doubting they could still be alive, hoping she'd never have to see their decaying corpses banging to get back in, trying to create a necropolis, a mausoleum out of the place from which she'd expelled them.

"They'll fight you on it. His whole group." Eric warned. "Dixon for starters." Then his face clouded and he added accusingly, "That's why you sent them back out so soon—isn't it?"

"We need all the intel they can gather on this new threat." Deanna said in a reasonable voice that gave nothing away. Dixon may be a loose cannon, but she was under no illusions that any of the rest of his group would be any easier to control if the decision went against Grimes. Not even Daryl's new seemingly harmless girlfriend.

That a man like Daryl Dixon would choose _her _out of all of the women available to him here and in his own group had the leader of the ASZ reevaluating her initial judgment on just _who_ and _what_ Carol Peletier really _was..._maybe Deanna had finally found someone who played her cards even closer to the vest than she did.

* * *

_AN:__ I had this started last week, before the season finale so I finished it up today. I know where it's supposed to go, and parts will parallel the events of that episode, but hopefully give my presently low Caryl feels a bit of a boost by including more of what I wanted to see and hear from the both of them, LOL!_

_Love to hear from you if you have time. Happy start of the long hiatus, Lord help us &amp; protect us from the trolling._


	8. Chapter 8: Behind Blue Eyes

Begins with the events of the season 5 Finale, _Conquer. _**Spoilers if you haven't yet watched it.**

Morgan has just saved Daryl and Aaron from the Wolf trap; Carol has just threatened Pete, the Porch Dick (with apologies to the actor, Corey Brill, who is by all indications, a lovely man).

* * *

_**Behind Blue Eyes**_

_No one knows what it's like  
to be the sad man  
to be the bad man  
behind blue eyes..._

_No one knows what it's like  
to be hated  
to be fated  
to telling only lies..."  
_-The Who

* * *

**_50 Miles from the ASZ_**

"We best be movin' on before the bad guys show up." Daryl rasped, covering his surprise at seeing Rick's name on the map that their savior had shown them.

"We bring back the good ones." As they headed out, Aaron explained their mission, why they'd been at the factory searching for the man in the red poncho.

Daryl brought up the rear, watching their six for any sign they were being followed, his bow at the ready.

"That what I am?" the new man asked, his deadly quarter staff now repurposed as a walking stick as they made their way to Aaron's car and Daryl's Scrambler, hidden in the forest near the wolf trap he'd helped them escape not ten minutes ago.

Morgan—he'd told them was his name—was not unfamiliar to Daryl. Rick, Michonne and Carl had all spoken of the damaged solitary soul who had taken over the Grimes' home town. Last they'd known the man was a head case; so far gone after the loss of his family that he'd refused to come to the prison.

Daryl asked the man why he'd saved them and been fed some bullshit line about "all life being precious." When he'd replied that whoever set the trap they'd sprung didn't seem quite the precious sort, Aaron reminded him that part of their job entailed the winnowing of the good from bad, that there were some living ones now that just weren't worth the trouble. Morgan said he'd rather save them all and let life sort out the rest; that good or bad, alive was better than the dead.

"Saved our asses; 's good enough." Daryl said, low and quick, in almost a mumble that both Aaron and Morgan had to work to catch. They shared a look, Morgan questioning, Aaron slightly smug.

"And this place you're from, Blue eyes? Where we're headed?' Morgan asked Daryl, "They good people too?"

"Most of 'em." Daryl grunted in reaction to the nickname. He looked over at Aaron and gestured to Morgan's staff. "Whatta ya think? Little John? Obi Wan? Splinter? Gandalf?"

Morgan raised an eyebrow at them and then nodded in appreciation at the pop culture references.

"Let's go with Obi Wan, Chewbacca." Aaron grinned at his shaggy friend, who snorted.

"Yeah? So what does that make you?" Daryl scoffed, though silently acknowledging the crossbow and the fringe, the monosyllabic vocabulary did give him a Wookie vibe.

"Han Solo, of course." Aaron preened.

"Nah—I'd go with C-3PO." Morgan disagreed, looking over the clean and pressed Lands End wear worn by Daryl's articulate traveling companion.

"Nope, _Yoda._" Daryl pronounced with a wry deadpan look.

That actually made Aaron stop and give Daryl a thoughtful smile and nod of thanks. He was glad to think that anything he'd said had been seen as wise by the Archer.

"Home we shall be going then?" Aaron asked laconically, inclining his head slightly at Morgan, who grinned and shook his head.

Daryl snorted in derision but grinned.

The ability to engage in such easy going banner after so narrowly escaping death was one of the odd coping mechanisms that life of the road seemed to have taught them all. It was more than just gallows humor though; it was an assertion of _life_—that it went on, so you might as well enjoy it and those around you while you could.

* * *

**_ASZ_**

Carol stood with her back against the door she had just exited, leaning on it for support, her knees almost giving way as the adrenalin rush dissipated, threatening to buckle out from under her. She startled when she heard the heavy glass casserole dish clatter to the floor from the house interior and took that as her cue to push off the door and across the porch, down the three stairs to the side walk and out onto the street. She stopped; drawing herself up, straightening the baby blue cardigan, making sure it covered the hilt and blade of the knife she'd used to make her position clear to the doctor.

Pete, that was his name. Jessie's husband, Sam's father. Bully, drunk, abuser...weak...nothing...

When she'd held the razor sharp trench knife to his throat she thought of the other lives she had taken with it, how hard that had been. Even though they'd been dying, drowning in their own blood, they'd been her friends, people she had promised to protect, to nurse. But when they'd become a threat to the rest, to the children and those she loved most? She'd done what she had to. She'd killed so others could live. She'd hated it, but she'd done it.

If Andrea had done as she'd advised at the Prison? Used her wiles and her knife on Blake? How many more of them might still be alive?

Carol thought she understood why Andrea hadn't acted. How many times in her life before the Turn had she been unable to?

She'd never told Daryl why she'd gone to the shelter in Atlanta with Sophia, only that they hadn't stayed. He probably assumed it was because Ed had beaten her badly enough that she'd tried to escape, but it hadn't been that at all. It was because she had frightened herself with what she'd almost done.

Carol's parents were gone, she had no friends—Ed had made sure of that over the years—and so in the end she'd done what she'd always done. Made plans to avoid the reality of her life.

Someone had given her a card; the school nurse when Sophia had gotten sick and Carol had to come pick her up. Ed was gone, off with his cronies on a long weekend hunting trip for opening day of deer season. Exhausted from doing all of the packing and preparation for his trip she hadn't awoken at five a.m. to cook his breakfast as he'd demanded and he'd dragged her out of bed by her hair.

It'd been a bad morning after; she had visible bruises this time: one eye almost swollen shut, the pitying stares from the people in the school office, from the nurse. The card for the shelter had been stapled to the paperwork excusing Sophia from school.

The next morning Carol stood in the bathroom of their house and held the card in one hand and a bottle of sleeping pills in the other; just stood there for the longest time, staring at her face in the mirror. One eye was startlingly blue, the other filled with blood from the capillaries broken by a close fisted hand.

Carol put down the card and opened the child proof bottle. She shook all of the pills out into her hand, contemplating them.

_How many would it take?_ She wondered.

She took a step back, lifted the lid of the toilet and opened her hand, letting the pills cascade down into the bowl, flushing them away. Flushing her plan away...

...the sleeping pills she'd saved to mix into Ed's beer and favorite tuna casserole, the skinning knife she'd taken from the garage locker where he stored his hunting gear, the afternoons at the public library learning that it didn't matter how big a body was, they were all reduced to a bloody soup when placed in a good old Rubbermaid tub with the right kind of acid.

But then what? Without her husband what was she? How could she raise Sophia, alone, on the run?

She lifted the card, read the name and address. Set it back down and picked up the knife and hacked away at her hair, the long russet curls threaded with grey falling into the sink. Ed's electric razor took care of the rest.

Her resolve and their stay at the shelter lasted as long as the rest of Ed's hunting trip.

The dead began to walk a few weeks later.

She'd told Daryl, there in Atlanta after her return visit to that place that promised safety, that the Carol with no resolve, who relied on prayers instead of action had burned away, and the one she'd become after losing Sophia, the woman who she always thought she should be? After losing the prison? She was all gone now too. She was strong because she had to be, to do what she had to do...

"_She can't be around people..."_

"_I'm going to kill people."_

Two conversations with Tyreese. The Grove. Terminus.

More deaths.

She'd had to. So they could live. So Rick and Carl had Judith back, so Sasha had Ty, and though she hadn't believed it could ever happen, not really, so that Daryl Dixon would come running across a forest glen, a smile of joy and relief on his bruised and battered face and grab her up in the most improbable and therefore most glorious hug she'd ever had. He kept her tethered to her humanity.

Just now? Facing down another woman's abusive husband? She said everything she'd always wanted to say to Ed, had felt like she had ice and fire running through her veins, and had started to _enjoy_ his fear, thrill to the feeling of power, to know how easy it would've been to just draw the blade across his jugular. She'd told him how things had to be: do his assigned work as the town physician, look after Tara and anyone else who needed it, and stay away from his wife and sons.

"_You put your hands your wife again? Your little girl? Anyone else in this camp? I'll kill you."_

Carol winced at the echo of the voice in her head of the long dead deputy, Shane warning Ed after he had taken out his fury on him at the quarry. Heard the echo of what he'd said after the barn in what she'd said to Rick the day he'd exiled her...

"_You don't have to like what I did, I don't, but I stepped up—I __did__ something."_

"_I didn't kill two of our own."_ Rick had protested.

"_No. Just one."_

Shane had become a threat. Rick killed him. Rick had sent her away because he thought she was the same.

_Was_ she?

Shane had told himself only _he_ could protect Lori, Carl and the baby he believed was his.

Carol hadn't trusted the Council to do what was necessary to stop the plague. Had she been as arrogant as Shane? She had sacrificed the few to save the many at the Prison, had sacrificed a child to save another, had killed strangers to save the family at Terminus, and was playing the game again now with her Junior League costume, cookies, casseroles and stolen guns..._ what else would she have to sacrifice?_

"_You said we get to start over; did you?"_ she had asked Daryl at the shelter.

"_I'm tryin'..."_

She knew Daryl was still trying; he'd said as much with his refusal of the stolen gun, the way he'd jumped full throttle into recruiting, bonding with Aaron...

Was she?

"_Come at me...no?..._No_."_ she'd said to Pete with disdain, seeing the fear and self loathing in the big man's eyes. She was strong, she was death, she was...

Was she _trying_?

* * *

**_ASZ: Town Meeting_**

"_Rick! Do it!"_ Deanna's voice had been filled with anguish as she demanded her constable execute the out of control man who had just taken her husband from her in one awkward stroke of a stolen blade. In the time it took to fire a single gunshot, Pete lay dead at Rick's feet.

"Rick?" Morgan's disbelieving voice cut through the horrified silence and sobs of the Alexandrians. As he and the man whose life he'd saved so long ago stared at one another, Daryl scanned the crowd for his people, for Carol. He saw a grim looking Abraham and Eugene hovering protectively over someone on the ground next to the bloody body of Deanna's husband.

"I have to do it now, I'm sorry." Carol said gently to the man's wife and son, who both looked numbed with grief.

Deanna blinked uncomprehendingly until she saw the brass knuckled knife in Carol's hand. She looked up into Carol's eyes and then gave a curt nod of understanding.

"_What are you..."_ Spencer gasped, moving to grab Carol's arm, but Deanna stopped him by grasping her son's hand tightly in her crimson covered one.

"Do it." Deanna said tightly.

"Don't look." Carol said.

Spencer gave an inarticulate cry of mourning and his mother pulled him into her arms, turning away, the two of them taking what strength they could from each other.

Daryl came close enough to hear the dull quick soft crunch through thin bone as Carol punched her blade through the man's ear and into his brain, preventing him from turning and bringing even more horror to the scene.

Carol wiped off her knife with a corner of her jacket and started to stand, but was stopped by the leader of the ASZ saying her name quietly.

"Carol?"

Carol crouched back down, her brow creased in concern. Had she overstepped?

"Thank you." the newly minted widow murmured.

Carol nodded and stood, giving both Abe and Eugene grateful looks before her face went back to its carefully constructed look of sympathetic concern, until her eyes met Daryl's.

He saw panic there, and what else? Was that...guilt?

* * *

_**ASZ: Team Family House**_

"I provoked him. I set him off. He took the katana from the house_! Our_ house! What if Carl and Judith hadn't been with Rosita and Tara? What if they'd been home? What if he'd hurt them?"

"Carol—slow down—how did you provoke him?" Daryl said soothingly from his place sitting on their bed a few hours after his return.

She was pacing the room, agitated, shaking. It was better than the cold veneer of calm she'd projected for everyone else while they'd dealt with the aftermath of the day's extreme events, but he was struggling to understand why she was blaming herself for what Pete had done.

"It was Rick beatin' the shit out of him on Main Street in front of the whole town set him off." Daryl disagreed. He was having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that Rick had some sort of thing going on with the blonde, Jessie. She was _married _for Christ's sake! What the fuck was going on with most everyone he knew—Stepford Carol, Michonne hanging up her sword, Glenn getting blamed for losing two men on a run?

"I threatened him. Today. That was _me_." Carol said, stopping in front of him.

"You _threatened_ him?" Daryl asked, his tone said he needed more explanation.

Carol moved to look out the window, pushing the curtain aside so she could see outside into the night. Abe and Tobin patrolled the street in front of their house. No one knew if more walkers had gotten inside the open gate and so Rick had set up a curfew patrol to keep watch over the houses while they searched. Daryl had just returned with Michonne and the new man, Morgan.

"I took him a casserole and held my knife to his throat and made sure he knew I'd use it if he ever hurt his family again." Carol said, her fingers tracing the hilt of her trench knife at her hip.

"Felt good, didn't it." Daryl said flatly.

Carol turned to face him, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes.

"Felt _strong_ didn't it?—tellin' that asshole where to get off. Knowing you had the strength to back it up. Knowin' he'd never hurt anyone again." Daryl said fiercely, his look not the one of disapprobation she'd feared, but one of approval.

And then Carol knew—he'd have done the same. Her mouth trembled and she bit the inside of her lip.

"No way of knowin' how the rest would all go down." Daryl reminded her. "N' I'm sorry about Reg—he seemed like a stand up guy—but... now that woman and her sons got a chance to keep tryin'." he chuckled darkly then. "Well, as much of a chance as any of us got."

Carol looked back outside, down the street, wondering if anyone had broken the news to Sam yet. How would he react? With same relief she'd felt in Sophia when they'd buried Ed? Or would he truly mourn his father? The boy had asked for a gun to use against him...

"Do you think _I'm _trying, Daryl?" Carol said, letting the curtain fall and returning her gaze to his.

"You don't have to do it by yourself." Daryl said.

Carol raised both hands to push her hair off of her face in a weary gesture. Her eyes looked huge in her pale face, ice blue pools of uncertainty over dark half moons of exhaustion. It was hard to rest when he was gone; she'd let herself get used to his warmth, his body conforming to hers as they curled around each other in their sleep. She moved to the bed, perching lightly on the edge for a moment before scooting back up to lay her head on one of the mismatched pillow cases.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here." Daryl said, but wondering if it would've made any difference. He was glad they hadn't had to go through with taking over the place like they'd planned and thought that maybe now they really could start making this place safe, get it ready for whatever came next.

When Carol didn't respond he lay down beside her and took her in his arms, worried at how unyielding she was, her body stiff.

"You need to be out there. I know this is hard for you—being inside walls. This place." Carol told him.

"Ain't any easier for you." Daryl said simply, resting his cheek against her temple.

"It was easier out _there_, on the road." Carol sighed. "Simple problems, simple needs: food, water, shelter, to run or hide from the dead or kill them."

"_We_ were dying out there." Daryl said, and they both thought of Bob, Beth, and Ty. "Better in here."

"We're still dying in _here._" Carol reminded him of the death toll in just the last few days, "Reg, Pete, Aiden, _Noah..._

"Doesn't mean it isn't better here." Daryl said stubbornly. "Doesn't mean we can't make it a _home_. Stop running. Ain't you tired of being somethin' you're not?"

"Rick said he was tired of lying. I told him he couldn't have it both ways—I let them see who I really am and then I'm one of the bad guys; they won't want me here." she insisted.

"They already _know_, Carol." Daryl told her, "Aaron knows most of it, and everyone else who sees _us _together is gonna be connectin' the dots, 'specially if you stop wearing this shit."

He pushed aside the high starched collar of her blouse and nuzzled into her neck.

"Stop—I can't think when you do that..." Carol protested, feeling her attempt to stay aloof from his appeal teeter on the edge.

"Always was your problem." Daryl murmured and then started kissing and licking at her neck, gentle but insistent, holding her still with one long fingered hand spread out on the other side of her head. His whiskers rasped against her soft skin, sending a goose bump thrill rushing straight to her core.

"_Problem?"_ she asked, her voice going breathy, her body thawing.

"When to think, when to do—knowing the difference." he explained, his other hand deftly moving to undo the first button of her fussy blouse and continuing on down, opening her to him.

Anyone who thought Daryl Dixon didn't know how to read people was usually dead wrong. He knew this woman better than anyone; knew her heart, knew when she was hurting, knew _why._

Daryl kissed down onto her pale freckled cleavage, reaching her melting point.

Carol stopped him, took his face in her hands, lifted it, staring into his eyes, blue on blue, looking for the truth.

"You're still one of the good guys, sweetheart." he breathed, watching her eyes mist over.

Carol nodded at him, believing him, and kissed him.

* * *

**AN:** Something that MMB said on _TTD_ stuck with me. She discussed being initially worried that the things Carol is doing will be seen as her being evil "bad," but that Carol is actually "good bad." That provoked this chapter and her questioning her own actions.

In the advice she gave to Andrea and the threat she made to Merle about Daryl in the S3 deleted scene, the commonality of killing someone in their sleep with a knife always made me think she had planned that as a way to take out Ed, hence my little explanation about why she and Sophia were at the shelter. The way her threat to Pete played out was the same, this time reinforced with her trench knife.

In my version of the story the connection that Caryl has is vital to both of their mental states. In this chapter he helps her see that she is still "trying" and is a good person. He believes in her.

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think if you have time.

PS: To anyone waiting on my other WIPs, (of which I really do have too many) I don't have much time for writing at the moment &amp; this one is coming fast &amp; easy, so it's all I'm updating at present. I haven't abandoned any (really!) but I can't devote the time necessary to them and get my RL work done &amp; that pays the bills, so there you have it: the eternal struggle of a fan fic writer. School's out in 4 weeks &amp; then I will get back to them. Thanks to those of you who care that they continue &amp; have asked.


	9. Chapter 9: The Price We Pay for Love

Carol and Rosita help with a sad but necessary task before the funeral service. Jessie complicates Team family's situation and Daryl impresses someone important.

* * *

_**The Price We Pay for Love **_

"_Grief is the price we pay for love._" Queen Elizabeth II

* * *

"You don't have to do this; I can handle it by myself." Rosita said while calmly removing the blood soaked shirt, button by button from the dead man the next morning. Reg lay on a table in the kitchen of one of the unused houses that was functioning as a morgue; Pete's shrouded body was waiting its turn on the floor.

"I'm used to it—I did it for them. At the prison—where we were before." Carol said, moving to dip one of the sponges into the warmed soapy water to clean the flaking almost brown dried blood from the man's hair, face and neck as the other woman peeled back his shirt. She assessed the gaping wound made by the razor slice of the katana. His jugular cut through cleanly, he had bled out in under a minute.

"But you did it for Beth and Tyreese...it's not fair it's always you." Rosita protested. There had been only a few drops of blood on the girl's lovely pale face, a small dark hole under her chin. The clots of crimson, white bone and brain had washed out of her golden hair in the cold clear water from the stream near where they'd laid her to rest.

Tara had helped her that time, wanting to spare Maggie and Glenn. Daryl had carried the sheet shrouded body to the grave dug by Tyreese and Abraham. Carl fashioned a cross. Rick asked them all to share their memories of the teen. Sasha had kept vigil with her rifle, watching for walkers. Noah sat silently by the grave with Maggie all night until they left for Richmond the next day.

Only a few days later Carol had been adamant that Sasha not see her brother until his terrible wounds had been cleansed and covered with only his ashen face visible. Carol said her goodbyes to him while she bathed and smoothed his brow, thanking him for her life, for keeping their secrets and then paid tribute to him by doing something she hadn't since he had returned the child to her father. While the others buried him, she held Judith and told her about the big hearted gentle man who had saved her life.

"How many have we lost since this all began?" Rosita asked rhetorically, thinking of the nine who had given their lives to get Eugene to D.C. and then farther back, to her own family and friends.

"It's easier this time. We didn't really know him." Carol said pragmatically, pushing down her choking grief for three other broken little girls turning back to clay on abandoned farms hundreds of miles away.

"First her son, and a day later her husband," Rosita sighed, finishing removing the rest of the man's clothes, grimacing at the reality that they'd been soiled from the inside out. The fact that at death one's bodily functions often let loose was something she'd learned the hard way.

'_I know you lost something back there...' _Carol thought of Rick's words to Daryl on the road. Who among them hadn't? Husbands, wives, daughters, sons, brothers, sisters, lovers... Sasha and Maggie had suffered a similar one two punch of loss and were dealing with it in completely different ways—how would Deanna?

'_Oh my love, my love...'_ the ASZ leader had kept repeating last night. Then she'd been steely eyed when she'd ordered Rick to execute her husband's killer, stoic when she'd granted Carol permission to keep him from turning, and she was back to work this morning in the hours before the funeral, interviewing Morgan, getting an update from Daryl and Aaron on what they had encountered in meeting the man. Like Carol, perhaps she didn't have time for _grief..._

"_Grief_ is the price we pay for love." Rosita said, startling Carol by saying the word just as she thought it.

A knock on the outside door drew their attention away from their conversation and task. Rosita rinsed off her hands and went to answer it.

"He's my husband." a quiet but determined voice came from the doorway.

"We haven't—he's not ready yet, Jessie. I'm sorry..." Rosita turned and looked back at Carol, her gaze unsure and questioning. Carol nodded, giving permission to let the other woman in.

"We're doing Reg first," Carol told Jessie, who nodded, averting her eyes from the body on the table and instead focusing on the sheet covered one waiting in the corner of the room. Blood had soaked through at the head making a Rorschach blot in rusty brown.

"What do I tell my boys?" Jessie murmured, sinking into a kitchen chair, staring blankly ahead.

"The truth." Carol said without hesitation.

Jessie blanched.

"That he was weak." Carol continued, looking down at Reg's blue tinged lips, the throat laid open, "That he made himself feel powerful by hurting others and it got him killed."

Rosita looked assessingly at the older woman. She had admired Carol since she met her, had been impressed by her long con with the Good Housekeeping shtick when they arrived at the ASZ and had enjoyed observing the little dance she and the Archer had done before finally settling into whatever it was they were now. That she so intimately understood the kind of man Jessie's husband had been was interesting. Perhaps she'd had good reason to keep Daryl at arm's length for so long.

"Your husband?" Rosita asked Carol, "You take him out?"

"Walkers." Carol shook her head side to side, but then added with a little smirk, "But I did have the honor of putting a pick axe through his head after."

"I shot the twig and berries off an asshole who tried to rape me in Houston, before I met up with Abraham and Eugene." Rosita nodded solemnly, and then her lips slipped into a tiny smile. "If he lived he's peeing sitting down."

Carol raised an eyebrow, impressed.

"So we're supposed to just...what?" Jessie looked back and forth between them with disbelief. "Give everyone guns and knives and swords and let the slaughter go on?"

"You do what you have to do to survive and you don't apologize after." Rosita said, her voice hard, "You people have been living in a fool's paradise in here—this was bad..." she looked down at Reg's lifeless form and over to the shrouded body on the floor "...but there's worse shit coming and you need to be ready for it."

"You have to be strong—not just for your boys—for _you_." Carol said, returning to her work preparing the body, looking down at it. "Show them that you're willing to do whatever it takes to protect them by learning _how_."

"You don't understand—you don't have children—I can't let them become like _him_—give their lives over to the violence...I can't..." Jessie protested.

"I had three daughters." Carol said quietly, pausing to remember each in turn in her mind's eye. She gave a small weary sigh and shook her head, "And now I don't."

Rosita reached out and put her hand on top of Carol's, giving it a small brief squeeze before releasing it and looking over at Jessie with narrowed eyes.

"I...I'm sorry...I didn't know..." Jessie murmured, wringing her hands in embarrassment.

"You didn't want to know." Carol said with a dismissive frowning half chuckle. "None of you want to know what it's really like out there." She dropped her bloody sponge back into the bucket and used a clean towel to dry Reg's face and hair a bit and then nodded at Rosita. "He's done—did they bring what they wanted him buried in?"

"Spencer left some things." Rosita said.

"Okay. Rigor has almost passed; we should be able to get them on him now." Carol said, lifting one cold arm to check its flexibility, inadvertently causing the body to shift, the head lolling to the side facing Jessie, creating the illusion it was looking at her with unseeing eyes.

"_Oh God."_ Jessie gave a small cry, tears spilling over, her hand moving to cover her mouth.

Glancing over at Jessie's horrified face, Carol supposed she couldn't blame the woman—if you were like most people before the Turn, perhaps you had only ever seen a body in a funeral home, prepared by professionals to have some imitation of life in carefully controlled conditions, a serene expression frozen onto the face with wax, putty and make-up. The reality was something those who had lived outside the walls saw every day. Death was an ugly limp bastardization of life.

"You should go now." Carol said, sighing impatiently. She gestured at Pete's body. "We've got this."

"He's my _husband_," Jessie protested, and Carol heard the guilt in her voice. Guilt that somehow it had all gotten out of control and it was her fault? Guilt that she was relieved her tormenter was dead?

"The vows say till death do you part." Carol said with more sympathy in her tone than she'd been able to summon for the woman up to now, but wasn't going to let her forget who and what was most important, "Your _boys _are still alive and they need you now. "

When Jessie remained seated, looking uncertain, staring at what was left of the man with whom she'd tried to make a life.

"Would you like some privacy to say goodbye?" Rosita asked gently.

Jessie turned back to them and bobbed her chin up and down a few times, unable to speak, sniffing back her tears.

Carol sighed out her ambivalence. It wasn't that she lacked empathy, she knew exactly how Jessie felt, had _lived_ it, but was so far beyond it now that watching the woman deal with this particular kind of loss felt like squeezing into a garment two sizes too small, itchy and uncomfortable and frustrating. She just wanted it to be over with. To get beyond it so they could deal with whatever was coming at them next.

"We'll be on the porch." Rosita said. "Come out when you're done."

Carol followed her out and they leaned against the porch railing, waiting, arms crossed over their chests.

"It's still new for them, Carol." Rosita reminded her.

"I know." Carol said flatly. "And I hate them and feel sorry for them and just don't care...all at once."

"Yeah." Rosita agreed. "...all at once."

* * *

A subdued Gabriel led the services. Killer and victim both lay in their graves; judge and executioner stood to either side of them. Deanna was supported by her remaining son. Rick's focus was on Jessie standing with her sons, the fact of which did not go unnoticed. Carol and Daryl stood next to Abraham, Eugene, and Maggie. Rosita was with Tara and Glenn back at the Clinic, babysitting Judith. Eric was leaning on Aaron, both of them extremely sad. They had known and admired Reg longer than almost anyone in the group; had helped him build the wall. The new man, Morgan, was off to the side closest to Michonne, both of whom were looking pensively at Rick. The rest of the Zone residents were arrayed around them, looking shell shocked at the third and fourth funerals in less than a few days.

"We live surrounded by death." The priest began in slow measured tones, "It is the only constant in this world. The second you are born, you begin to die. If you are lucky you will have good things before the end—family, friends, love, faith, honor—if you are lucky, your time will not have been filled with despair and darkness; your soul will not have dried and cracked, shriveled up with sin."

He seemed to say the last words as a warning, an admonition to all those present. He looked to Maggie, standing alone because Glenn was in the Infirmary with Tara, recovering from a gunshot wound inflicted by Nicholas, a man deep into his own darkness. A man Glenn had already forgiven.

"I did not know these men well." Gabriel continued, "I know both were loved." He looked over at Deanna and Spencer, then at Jessie and her sons, "Both will be missed." He paused, looking up into the sky for a long moment before he continued, "Judgment? I leave that up to God."

The priest stepped to the side of the first grave and gathered a handful of soil from the mound next to the vacant earth, saying as he sprinkled it over the body,

"_In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God our brother__ Reginald Monroe __and we commit his body to the ground; earth to earth; ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless him and keep him, the Lord make his face to shine upon him and be gracious unto him and give him peace. Amen."_

He repeated the words for Pete and then stepped back. One by one the community members filed forward and did the same. Some ignored the second grave, uncomfortable with the idea that they would be honoring a killer, but as Aaron had reminded them all in his eulogy for both men before the service proper, the surgeon had also saved several lives during his time in the ASZ.

Carol and Daryl were standing talking to Aaron and Eric when Sam rushed up and flung himself at Carol. She crouched down, hugging him tightly.

"_I'll never tell."_ The boy whispered against her neck. He pulled back and looked at her with solemn seriousness, his big blue eyes wide, _"Thank you."_

Carol looked startled. Had he put together that Rick had used one of the guns she had taken?

"Sam," Jessie interrupted, frowning at her son's obvious affection for Carol.

"I was just thanking her for the cookies she gave us." Sam said, releasing his hold on her. She'd had Carl deliver a fresh batch early this morning when he went to see how Ron was doing.

"Yes, thank you." Jessie said a bit stiffly. She nodded at Carol and the others and gathered Sam close with her arm around his shoulders.

"Are you coming over for the—" Eric started to ask, but Jessie shook her head no.

"We're going home." Jessie told him. "Thank you though." and then she led Sam away.

"Carol-I'd like to speak with you—do you have some time now?" Deanna asked as she walked up to them, her tone brisk, but her voice was hoarse and her eyes red. She'd spent an hour before the service sitting next to Reg's body in the make-shift morgue.

Daryl's hand came up and rested in the small of Carol's back, supportive, but not visible to the others standing in front of them, including Deanna, Olivia and Spencer.

"Mom—there's the supper—at Aaron and Eric's?" Spencer reminded his mother of the unofficial wake that the recruiter had offered to host after the services.

"Why do people always try to feed you when everything tastes like ashes in your mouth?" Deanna said philosophically, her lips caught between a grimace and a wry grin.

"Brought back a bottle of Macallan from our last run," Daryl uncharacteristically volunteered.

Carol reached back and found his hand, giving it a thankful squeeze.

Deanna's face let the wry grin win. Macallan was considered to be one the finest Scotch whiskey brands. Reg had been proud the Monroe family's Scottish heritage, something Aaron must've communicated to Daryl.

"You're a bonny man, Mr. Dixon. Lead on." Deanna said, stepping forward and lacing her arm through his.

Carol released Daryl's hand and walked beside him, proud of how well he was trying to fit in here, smiling at the red flush she saw rising under his collar to be so formally escorting the woman in charge of the whole place. He'd dressed up for the service, as much as he ever did, with a long sleeved black western shirt under his vest and clean dark jeans sans holes, patches or shoe lace anti-tick garters. Carol almost matched, her dark navy slacks with a blue striped blouse topped with the same long coat she'd worn to the party the night she'd done her little invisible act.

About a half a block ahead, Rick, Carl, Ron, Sam and Jessie were making their way down the street towards her house.

Early this morning they'd had a "family" meeting and they'd advised Rick to keep his distance from Jessie for the time being. Carol was displeased to see that he hadn't followed the group's advice. It was important that everyone in the ASZ focus on the murder of Reg as Rick's justifiable motivation for killing Pete and not on any nascent romantic interest the constable might have had in the dead man's wife. The consequences of the main population turning against them weren't a price they were willing to pay if they could help it.

Michonne had been dismissive, expressing sympathy over what Jessie had been through, but opined that she was a complication, an indulgence distracting him from leadership. Daryl had been blunter, telling Rick that last thing they needed was to have shit kick up over his need to get his dick wet.

Rick's response had been sullen and defensive; even a bit ugly, asking Daryl if he had to follow the Dixon time table of mooning over the widow of an asshole for two years before he had the balls to even touch her let alone fuck her. It was only Michonne's threat to put him down again that staved off the men from coming to blows.

"Michonne? Could you run ahead and ask Rick to come to Aaron's now? I need to talk to him as well." Deanna requested.

Michonne nodded and increased her long stride to catch up to the others. Morgan fell in behind Deanna's group, keeping the same slower pace as Aaron and Eric, who was crutching along.

Deanna looked over to Carol, seeing her frown and catching her eye. The look asked: _we're on the same page with this, right? Keep him away from her for now?_

Carol didn't smile, her frown returned to bland passivity, but inside she felt a flutter of panic. Deanna _knew_—like Carol, she knew—that Rick Grimes was a tool, a blunt force object to be strategically managed now, not the leader he imagined himself to be.

* * *

AN: Father Gabriel's words as he sprinkles the dirt are the death service from the Anglican_ Book of Common Prayer._

Carol is the chess player, Deanna the card sharp, but they seem to be coming to similar conclusions about how to make the ASZ a better, safer place.

I think you can figure out my personal opinion on "Jessick."


	10. Chapter 10: Students of Reality

Deanna questions Carol, calls the meeting to order and we hear a lot more from Morgan. Things are about to get a little Zen up in here.

* * *

_**Students of Reality**_

"_Well, you know, that's the world we live in. ...It's about reality. And as a Buddhist, Buddhism does not just favor a nice side of the phenomenal universe. Buddhism says we are all students of reality, whatever it is."- _Gary Snyder

"If you could join us as well, Michonne? Morgan?" Deanna asked, pointing to the smaller room off the main space of the living room where other mourners were talking amongst themselves and with Spencer, sharing reminiscences about his father with him.

The newcomer nodded, his Zen face giving little away as to his state of mind. He hadn't said much either, preferring to observe, reserving judgment on the community he had found himself in by virtue of his rescue of Aaron and Daryl. He and Rick had a somewhat stilted reunion of sorts the night he arrived, just in time to witness the man he had once spared and saved take another's life. Even knowing the dire circumstances that had precipitated the act, under his veneer of calm he was uneasy. The recruiters he had saved knew what he was capable of and wanted him on their side and had said as much to Deanna, but Morgan hadn't yet committed to stay.

Michonne and Carl were more wary of the new arrival than the others. The last time they had seen him he had been intent on methodically clearing a small Georgia town of walkers, his mental state best described as broken after the loss of his son to the walker who had been his wife; the one he'd been unable to put down for so long, a decision that had cost him his child. They wanted to believe that he could come back from that loss and be whole again—that all of them could—because they had all lost just as much, but experience had taught them that everyone's breaking point was different. Someone could appear whole and then fall apart before your eyes.

The group Deanna had gathered for the meeting included Aaron, Eric, Maggie, Abe, Olivia, Tobin, Carol, Daryl, Morgan and Michonne. They were waiting on Rick who had wanted to make sure Carl and Judith were settled with Rosita and the others in the Clinic before he arrived.

Deanna came over to Carol who was standing near the window, pulling the curtain back slightly to peer out onto the street.

"Maggie tells me you were on the ruling Council back at the prison compound in Georgia."

Carol glanced over at the only surviving Greene family member who was talking to Eric, her gaze narrowing slightly before she looked back to Deanna with a smile.

"I helped out in the kitchen... the pantry...I guess I was sort of the Olivia of the place." Carol shrugged, minimizing her contributions.

"I'd like to institute something similar here, an advisory board." Deanna explained, "I need someone good at logistics and planning—someone who can cut through the bullshit and see possibilities and implications for the future in current events."

"You've picked a good assistant in Maggie then." Carol nodded, smiling and nodding benignly in the younger woman's direction.

"From what I've been told, _you_ ran the day to day operations at the prison, Carol. Made sure everything that _needed_ to be done, _got _done." Deanna said somewhat forcefully, watching Carol's reaction carefully.

"I did some of the cooking, took my turn at story time for the kids—" Carol gave the other woman a puzzled little frown. "I'd hardly call that running anything." she demurred. "Just doing my part."

Deanna stared at her, cocking her head slightly to the side.

"And what you did for me...for _Reg_... last night? You've done that part before?"

"We all have." Carol said softly, sadly. "It's our reality."

"It's what we'll have to become isn't it? Students of reality?" Deanna asked. "These walls have let us hide our faces from it for far too long. We need people who can teach us how to deal with the world the way it is now. Aaron, Daryl, Morgan—all of you who have lived out there—you see what's out there—but we need people in _here_ preparing us. I think you're one of those people, Carol."

Carol was torn. She had been maintaining her casserole baking facade fairly well up until the last few days when circumstances had pushed her back closer to whom she had been outside the walls. She knew Daryl was right when he said their being together would alter people's perceptions of her; she could tell it had already made Deanna look at her in a different light. That coupled with her actions to keep the woman's husband from turning made her realize that she was growing weary of hiding who she was, tired of not trusting.

Deanna was doing her best to right the wrongs her leadership had caused—wasn't that the sign of a good leader? A willingness to learn from one's mistakes? Put other's interests before your own?

Rick's arrival cut short any response Carol would have made to Deanna's request for the moment. His handsome face was still marred by the cuts and bandages to them that a headlong plunge through plate glass had given him. Despite those wounds he looked unbowed, resilient and defiant in his upright stance; his constable's uniform laundered and pressed, his big Colt Python in a holster at his side.

"If everyone would please be seated?" Deanna asked, but she remained standing at the front of the room, the big blank black of the wall mounted flat screen her backdrop. Conversations ceased and those gathered moved to the couches and chairs around the room. Eric and Aaron sat together on the couch, joined by Carol with Daryl perched on the arm of it next to her. Maggie and Abe sat on a smaller sofa, Olivia and Tobin in individual chairs while Michonne, her katana visible in the sheath on her back and Morgan, leaning on his staff stayed standing, flanking Rick at the back of the room.

"To say our community is at a crossroads would be an understatement," Deanna began. "In practical terms, we have lost our engineer and our surgeon. In human terms..." she paused, looking down and swallowing, her eyes wet but voice still controlled when she looked back up, "...we have all lost someone we loved—every single one of us...but that doesn't mean we get to quit."

"Reality sends things to do, and someone has to do them." Morgan said in a calm clear voice from the back of the room, surprising everyone, "Reality keeps coming. You can't hamper it or block its way altogether; it just flows around you. So you ride the stream. What's flowed past...is past. Even walking in running water is moving forward."

Daryl and Aaron exchanged a look—they'd heard his Zen Master stylings before.

"Moving forward," Deanna nodded in agreement, "That's what I'd like this group to help me do. There are things we simply are not ready for in this new reality. I've heard the report from our recruiters and new arrival, Morgan; I've heard what Rick and his people have been trying to tell us since the day they got here. If I'd have done something about it before now..." she paused again, clearly struggling to stay in control, everyone knowing that she might not have lost her son and husband if she'd have listened to the warnings.

"But we can't just give in to vigilantism." Tobin protested. "I'm sorry as hell about Reg, Deanna—but what you did? What you let Rick do? That was—" he looked around the room for support. "It was an accident; Pete didn't mean to kill him."

"No, he meant to kill _Rick_." Michonne said coldly. "For stopping him for beating his wife and kids."

"You think we should've waited? Put him on trial?" Rick asked. "Or kept him locked up, plotting, causing dissension? Exile him so he can go out and find enough other assholes to come back and attack us? It's not like it was before. You have to mete out justice as it comes."

Daryl felt Carol stiffen involuntarily at the last. She and Rick may be on better terms now, united in their desire to protect the group, but what he had done to her would always be like a sore tooth you had to avoid biting down upon if you wanted to keep on eating.

"And _you_ get to pick up the pieces." Tobin said, his voice laced with sarcasm. Rick's attentiveness to Jessie wasn't just something that those close to him had noticed.

"What's done is done, Tobin." Deanna said sternly, shutting him down. "I'm damned if I do; damned if I don't. Sometimes all our possible choices all point toward undesirable outcomes. In the heat of the moment...in my grief I made a choice. Was it the only choice? No. Was it the best choice? I don't know. Probably not...but it led us here—to what needs to happen next."

"What are you getting' at, Deanna?" Abraham asked.

"There are more threats to this community than we are yet prepared to deal with." Deanna told them. "I need _all _of you. I want to institute a Council—like the one I'm told you had at the prison—to help me run this place. You people will be the core of it."

She paused, waiting for that to sink in.

"We still need people willing to go outside—to recruit, but also to scout for signs of this group Aaron and Daryl have encountered, the ones who call themselves _Wolves._ We also need to continue to build up our defenses—add additional fortifications and traps. Abraham, I'd like you to suspend work on expanding the walls for now and work with Morgan on that. From what I understand he had a whole city block's worth of ideas on walker and raider proofing."

All eyes turned to the man with the staff who locked eyes with Abe and slowly nodded.

"It's important that we be as self-sufficient _inside_ the walls as possible—a siege could seriously deplete our resources if we can't get out for resupplying. Tobin, we need to plant, cultivate and can or dry the produce we grow. We need people to hunt and also find easy to care for animals that can be re-domesticated. Rabbits perhaps and chickens... Olivia and Carol, we must have a better system for storage and rationing what we do have and what comes in. Maggie, when Glenn is ready, I need him and his crew out scavenging and gleaning anything that he can find for as long as we can. You and Eric are my logistics and manpower organizers. We need to have the whole community involved."

"What about weapons training?" Michonne asked. "Everyone should be able to take out walkers and defend themselves." She looked pointedly at Olivia, who had mostly just sat through the meeting looking alternately distressed and horrified.

"You and Rick can take that on." Deanna nodded. "I could use some myself—I used to trap shoot and go duck hunting with my constituents, but I may be a bit rusty."

"Carl learned to shoot and use a knife when he was 12—what about the rest of the kids?" Rick asked.

Carol looked down at her hands, her breath catching at the irony that she had to hide that very activity from Rick with "Story time." That it had been because of Sophia that she'd done it...and at the double irony that Lizzie had saved Tyreese when the prison fell because she knew how to shoot...and had killed her own sister with the knife Carol had given to her to protect herself...

"You okay?" Daryl whispered, leaning close, putting a comforting hand on her back.

"Carol?" Deanna asked, concerned.

Rick made a sound of distress, knowing she was thinking of Sophia, who had died at 12, without the training.

"It's a good idea." Carol said without elaboration, looking up the ASZ leader and giving a tiny positive shake of her head.

"We'll add it to the school curriculum—weapons handling, safety and marksmanship." Deanna pronounced.

"Can I learn how to handle _that_?" Olivia blurted, pointing at Daryl's crossbow propped up by the door.

"Long as that's the _only_ thing a Daryl's ya got a mind to handle." Abe drawled, tipping back in his chair to look at Daryl and Carol with a shit eating grin, making Olivia blush beet red and everyone else break into chuckles.

* * *

Daryl had stopped at Aaron and Eric's on his way home to search for some motorcycle part he swore he had seen in their garage; Rick had gone after the kids with Michonne along to insure he wouldn't make any "unauthorized" stops and everyone else had gone back to their respective homes or to visit others and so Carol and Morgan were left alone to walk back to the house. They stood on the porch, keeping watch for the others, both full of thoughts and plans from the meeting.

"Rick and Michonne say you're different, changed from how you were before." Carol said, wondering how his losses had transformed him from the broken man she'd heard about, into the calm powerful force he seemed to be now.

"Took a long time." Morgan smiled benignly, giving nothing away, "Lots of water under the bridge."

"_Even walking in running water is moving forward?"_ she quoted back at him a bit archly, wary of would be prophets.

"I found this in a house in that town—Rick's hometown, where I saw him and the woman and his boy last." Morgan told her. He opened his back pack and pulled out a rag tag looking small square thick booklet and showed it to Carol.

She looked at the front of it, which was green and had an image of a golden Buddha and the title, "Everyday Zen."

"I open this every day—doesn't have to be the day it is—most of the time I wasn't really even sure what _month_ it was, let alone day—but wherever it opened to, it seemed to mean something to me—some lesson I needed to learn. Got the thing practically memorized." He shrugged, his way of explaining the Zen koan-like phrases sprinkled in his speech.

"Here, try it." Morgan offered the little book to her.

Humoring him, she accepted it.

"Should I do today?" Carol asked.

"Doesn't matter—just open it or pick a special day." Morgan said, pursing his lips, "Up to you."

Carol hesitated and then used her thumbs to open it randomly.

Nov. 3

_Sometimes doing what's right will lead to punishment. Whatever outcome you foresee, go straight ahead with what needs doing. Whatever does in fact occur, will bring with it what you need to do next._

Carol's hands shook, staring down at the words.

"Carol?" Morgan asked. When she didn't respond he gently pried the book out of her fingers and read the page she had found. He looked back up at her just in time to see the shutters fall, her mask back in place. But now he had seen, if only a glimpse, how troubled she was.

"Interesting little book." Carol said too brightly.

Morgan closed the book and held it in his left hand; with his right he grasped her forearm to keep her from turning away.

"Whatever it is—if you need to talk—I'm a good listener." He said softly, his brown eyes kind, his hand warm on her skin, gentle fingers completely encircling the small bones of her delicate wrist.

The fake smile left Carol's face, blanking as he stared at her so intently, and then a small frown line appeared between her brows.

"I don't know you." Carol said quietly, her eyes narrowing, "And you don't know me."

"Sometimes that's a good thing." Morgan said with a hint of an intrigued smile. "Someone knows you too well; you lose the mystery...I like mysteries...and you lady? You're just about the biggest mystery around this place."

"No way in _hell _I'ma give that woman archery lessons!" Daryl's loud growling protest rose from down the block as he, Aaron and Eric made their way towards the house.

Carol pulled her wrist free from Morgan's grasp with a sharp tug, throwing them both off balance.

Morgan dropped the book and started to bend to retrieve it, while Carol simultaneously took a few quick steps back; teetering on the top step.

The sudden movement caught the other three men's attention and Daryl lengthened his stride and then broke into a run to get to the porch more quickly, catching Carol before she could tumble down the stairs.

Morgan was still reaching for her, a look of shock on his face for causing her unintended almost-fall, when Daryl scooped her up into his arms, carrying her up onto the porch.

"Y'all right?" Daryl asked, setting her down on the porch swing and kneeling in front of her, checking her over.

"I'm fine—just clumsy—wasn't watching what I was doing." Carol told him, but her pink cheeks, shaking hands and refusal to meet his eyes told Daryl that something else had happened and he glared up at Morgan, cutting off the words of apology the other man had just started to utter.

"Everything okay, Carol?" Eric asked with concern as he and Aaron reached the porch, taking in the tense scene.

"Morgan was just lending me his Zen book. Looks like I could use it." Carol said, taking a deep breath and pulling herself back together, recognizing that she'd been rattled at the combination of the eerily close to home koan and what..._what_? Another man's touch? His interest?

She reached up and placed her hand on Daryl's cheek, drawing his troubled gaze to her.

"I'm fine, Daryl. Everything's fine." Carol soothed. "I'm just tired. It's just been a rough couple of days."

"For all of us." Aaron agreed. "You ready to head out then, Obi Wan? Got the guest room all set up for you."

Morgan had slept on the couch in the living room of Rick and company's house his first night there, easier to be with the few people he already knew, but had accepted the offered space with the couple four houses down when they'd offered earlier in the long day.

"I'll be on my way, then." Morgan said, favoring them all with a small pleasant smile. On his way past the porch swing he placed the small book face down, open, on the seat next to Carol.

Daryl and Carol said their good nights to the three men and then went inside.

Much later, after they had made love, Carol left Daryl asleep in their bed and returned to the porch, to the book that Morgan had left for her, open to a certain page. She sat on the porch swing seat, pulling her sweater tighter around her, chilled against the autumn air, only her night gown on underneath, her hair still slightly damp at her nape and forehead from the intensity of their joining. Lifting the book she saw it was open to today's date.

Oct. 11.

"_There are four kinds of people in the world: Those who build walls, those who protect walls, those who breach walls. And those who tear down walls. Much of life is discovering who you are. When you find out, you also realize there are places you can no longer go, things you can no longer do, words you can no longer say. That is the true reality."__  
_

* * *

Zen Buddhism has a reputation for being inscrutable, and much of that reputation comes from _koans_. Koans (pronounced _KO-ahns_) are questions asked by Zen teachers that defy rational answers. Teachers often present koans in formal talks, or students may be challenged to "resolve" them in their meditation practice. "_Koans are a direct pointing to reality, an invitation for us to taste water and to know for ourselves whether it is cool or warm."_ from Buddhism dot about dot com

The first Zen book entry that Carol reads is a reference to Nov. 3, 2013: the date that the TWD episode "Indifference," the one in which Rick exiled Carol, aired.

The second Zen book entry for Oct. 11 is an adaptation of a quotation from P.S. Baber's work, _Cassie Draws the Universe__, _slightly altered to fit what I needed it to do in this chapter.

Thanks to all readers, favorites and reviewers! I love to hear your thoughts on the chapter if you have time.


	11. Chapter 11: How to Save a Life

**Daryl is inadvertently triggered to feel inadequate to situations past and present.**

Daryl: _"You saved us, all by yourself."  
_Carol: _"We got lucky, we all should be dead." (_Strangers, S5:2)

Carol: _"I don't think we get to save people anymore."  
_Daryl: _"Then why are you here?"  
_Carol: _"I'm trying."_ (Consumed, S5:6)

Carol (to Daryl):_"I think she saved my life...she saved your life too, right?" _(Them, S5:10)

* * *

_**How to Save a Life**_

_Let him know that you know best__  
__'Cause after all you do know best__  
__Try to slip past his defense__  
__Without granting innocence__  
__Lay down a list of what is wrong__  
__The things you've told him all along__  
__Pray to God, he hears you__  
__And I pray to God, he hears you_

_And where did I go wrong? I lost a friend  
__Somewhere along in the bitterness  
__And I would have stayed up with you all night  
__Had I known how to save a life  
_ _As he begins to raise his voice_

_You lower yours and grant him one last choice__  
__Drive until you lose the road__  
__Or break with the ones you've followed__  
__He will do one of two things__  
__He will admit to everything__  
__Or he'll say he's just not the same__  
__And you'll begin to wonder why you came_

Sung by The Fray; Writer(s): Joseph King, Isaac Slade  
Copyright: Aaron Edwards Publishing, Emi April Music Inc.

* * *

"I said you'll get used to it n' you will." Daryl said, adamant and working hard at holding on to his patience. He was on the new target range inside the walls, assigned for the day to weapons training some of the least skilled adults in the community. These included the Mullet and the pantry lady. Carol had invited herself along, telling him it fit her cover story, but Daryl knew it was also to make sure no one ended up with a bolt in their ass.

"I do not believe that it is something to which I will ever become accustomed." Eugene said with a shake of his head, the feathery dark hair at his nape taking a second or two to catch up with the rapid back and forth motion. It was almost mesmerizing, that hair, at times. He was down by the targets to check his accuracy by pulling off the man shaped paper silhouette he'd been firing into.

"They're already dead, Eugene." Carol reminded him gently. "They don't feel it, they don't understand it."

"It's still a cold blooded thing." Eugene insisted, "To fire a shot through someone's brain. To watch it explode out of their skull, to see them drop—to—"

The solid thunk of a bolt penetrating the head of the practice target right next to where Eugene was standing made him scurry back so quickly he fell on his ass.

"_Daryl..."_ Carol began, but he was already gone, stalking away.

"What bug climbed up his butt?" Olivia asked, scowling, moving quickly to give Eugene a hand up.

Carol stared at Eugene until he realized exactly what he had said, processing it slowly in his head.

"Should I go apologize to him or would that make my faux pas even more irritating to him?" Eugene asked, frowning at Daryl's retreating back.

'What faux pas?" Olivia asked.

"We lost someone...not too long ago in Atlanta...a young woman, Maggie's little sister." Carol said.

"She died in the manner I just described." Eugene said soberly, his flat voice apologetic.

"She and Daryl were...?" Olivia asked, all curiosity at the mention of another woman's name in relation to Daryl.

"He felt responsible." Carol said, her expression remorseful. "She'd been taken on his watch and we'd just found her again when she was killed." She didn't add that her own feelings of guilt were still wedged deep in her heart. She'd been there with the teenager, should've seen that Beth was about to do something reckless, should've done something to stop her, figured out a way to save her life...

"But it wasn't his fault." Eugene said, turning back towards the target and pulling out Daryl's cross bow bolt as he spoke."As I understand the terrible events of that day from my conversations with Noah while we were struggling to survive _on the road_, which actually resembled the post-apocalyptic film starring Viggo Mortenson more than I would like to recollect, including the cannibals and consumption of canines—"

"Eugene?" Olivia, looking a little queasy, interrupted his rambling digression from the original story.

Eugene looked over at her in puzzlement.

"Carol left too." Olivia informed him, pointing at the second retreating back.

* * *

Daryl was sitting on the porch steps of their house, whetstone in hand, sharpening the knife that had been Beth's. He tested it against the calloused skin of his thumb, pressing it into the meaty flesh of the pad, scoring a slash across the whorls of the print that then filled with the blood that sprang up out of the cut.

He rubbed the thick redness down and over the mostly healed burn scar in the flesh between his index and thumb, remembering the day he'd held the cigarette there, forcing him to feel, looking for a way out of the numbness.

He'd been better since. His people had shown him he was needed, that he was still alive and could help them stay that way too. _Carol _had shown him, given him this knife, and accepted him as he was without trying to change him.

He'd seen the Zen book, the one Morgan had left last night, sitting on the bedside table piled on top of _his_ book, the one he'd brought from Atlanta. Whatever demons the man had riding him when last he and Rick had met seemed to have let loose of his soul; Daryl wondered if he'd ever get there.

They'd been working through the book, sharing pieces of their lives slowly. Carol still said less than he would've liked about what she was feeling, more comfortable talking about the commonalities in the abuse they'd both suffered than saying anything about her daughters and her attempts to keep the new kid, Sam, at arm's length. It made him feel like she didn't think he'd get it, that he hadn't lost a child so it was beyond him.

Morgan had. He'd lost his son in circumstances as horrific as Sophia's death. They shared that pain.

Daryl used the honed blade to scrape against the small circle shaped scar, peeling it off like a blemish on the skin of an apple; fresh blood welled up and joined in the stream already running down his hand to drip onto the porch steps.

"Daryl?" Carol said softly, bringing his head up to look at her, squinting against the sun at her back that made her angelic, almost transparent with the light.

He didn't respond so she sat down beside him and leaned close until she could dig the rag out of his back pocket, silently taking his hand and wrapping the fresh wounds he'd given himself, applying pressure with both her smaller hands wrapped around his to stop the bleeding.

"He didn't mean anything by it." Carol offered, willing to take the brunt of any frustration Daryl felt towards Eugene.

"Thought it was a dog." Daryl murmured, looking down at Beth's knife, turning it back and forth in his hand and then stabbing it into the floorboard next to him.

Carol tilted her head at him, waiting for more.

"We were in this place...a _funeral_ home..." Daryl said, snorting a little, recognizing that the whole world was just one big Technicolor mortician's nightmare now.

Carol nodded, letting him know she understood he meant Beth and him.

"It was...it felt...I _let_ it feel safe. Like it was a place I could keep her safe. Something normal again. She was all I had left. Everybody's..._Hershel's_ daughter, Maggie's sister...I was supposed to keep her safe..."

Carol understood. The pecan grove had felt that way too. A place that she, Ty and the girls could've stayed; made a life.

"Stupid. Playing like I was—big grown up in charge—shit...I let her lead me around by the nose...do anything to make her happy...just like I used to do with Merle...Her wantin' a drink, burn down the still, burn down the past, get a dog, be one big happy family when whoever lived there got back—more'n likely they were like Gareth's bunch or the whole place's just a trap for Grady; all the lights blazin', playin' piano and singin' while I stretched out in a fuckin' coffin eatin' pig's feet..."

Carol let him ramble on, not understanding half of what he was talking about, but knowing he needed to get it out.

"I let them in. Opened the door and just let 'em in—thought it was the dog come back. She wanted to see the dog." he gave a short huff, remembering the grin on Beth's face when she asked about the mangy critter, how her goodness and ability to take joy in the little things despite everything she'd been through had given him hope...

He was dry eyed, but Carol felt his hand trembling in hers. She knew taking on the responsibility of caring for the girl had forced him to keep going after the prison fell, remembered how he'd been after Sophia, how he'd withdrawn. Without someone to force him out of it, Daryl would slow and stop, like a watch winding down. Beth had saved his life just by being there.

"I was supposed to keep her safe and I let them in—wouldn't have been in Grady if I hadn't. Still be alive if I hadn't." Daryl said dully.

"You don't know that." Carol reminded him. "She made her own choices, Daryl—as much as that hurts—just like Sophia chose to run into the woods instead of towards us for help. Beth made the choice to do what she did. You can't always protect people from themselves."

Equating Beth and Sophia made Daryl wince in sudden recognition. They'd both lost the girls who'd been everyone's children, the innocents loved by the whole family...

"You did the best you could." Carol said, trying to grant him the absolution he didn't want to accept. "It's all you can do. Forgive yourself and go on."

"So when are _you_ going to?" Daryl asked, turning it around on her. He knew that her self-perceived sins, her failures weighed down her soul.

"I'm still trying." Carol said softly, looking down and across the street where Abe and Rosita had just met up with Morgan and Aaron and were exchanging greetings.

"Still trying...with _me?_" Daryl asked, his gaze following hers, his gut twisting from the vulnerability he'd felt, seeing her with Morgan last night, the fear that he was still too screwed up to help her find her way out of the dark woods, that together they'd be lost there, never moving forward; that maybe there was someone else, someone smarter, already healed; better for her...

He'd made love to her last night with quiet desperation; half afraid it would be for the last time. When he'd woken and saw she'd retrieved the Zen book from the porch sometime in the night, he'd taken it like a blow he deserved for not being good enough.

Carol quickly turned to look at him and then squeezed his wounded hand so tightly he grimaced in pain. When she saw she had his full attention she leaned in close, nose to nose, touching her forehead to his.

"_With you." _she whispered fiercely and then released her hold on him so she could take his face in her hands and kiss him, hard, as if she was punishing him for doubting her.

Daryl whimpered from the force of it, the feelings of overwhelming love and acceptance in it making him ache. His arms went around her, holding her closer, the blood from his hand soaking through her floral sweater, creating a fresh red bloom on its surface.

"Get a room!" Abe called from cross the street, sounding lazily amused at their semi-public display.

Daryl let the kiss end and loosened his arms so she could be free, but she held on to his face, looking up at him with those expressive eyes, full of the same emotions he'd felt in her kiss.

"_I love you too."_ Daryl said, surprising both of them with the words neither of them had yet said to the other.

* * *

_**Dedication:**_ RIP McDreamy. It was an old ship, but a great one. Condolences to Meredith Grey.

And yes, I will admit to borrowing from a little Shamy moment of sweetness there at the end if you're a _BBT_ fan. Steal from the best.

Thanks for reading! Hope if you were perturbed by the last chapter this one felt a bit more Caryl to you, LOL! Let me know what you think if you have time.


	12. Chapter 12: A Stitch in Time

_Carol learns what Daryl needs from her and questions whether or not she can give it._

_In sewing you have a pattern, a plan that allows you to create a garment that not only fits but conceals your body, hopefully camouflaging the bumpy not so perfect parts and flattering whatever you have. Carol's been a seamstress for a long time now._

* * *

_**A Stitch in Time**_

Daryl lay stretched out on his back in the rumpled bed, one leg tangled in the sheets, arms above his head which was thrown back, baring his throat, looking vulnerable yet relaxed in his sleep.

After his declaration to her earlier in the evening, something had let loose in him, something that before this had either chased him from their bed before she woke or had him curl more tightly inward, wrapping himself protectively around her from behind, or perhaps anchoring her to him, guaranteeing she'd still be there when he awoke.

His preference was for them both to sleep in the all-together, when they were alone seeming to crave skin to skin contact with her as much and as often as he could get it now. As if having been deprived of it for his whole life he wanted to immerse himself in the sensation of touch.

Carol watched him, the moonlight slanting in through the open window carving shadows and highlights on his supple form like some Dada Renaissance nude cut from marble and then elaborated with a graffiti of tattoos.

She'd had to put two stitches in his thumb to close the damage he'd done to himself with the knife. It wouldn't stop bleeding—he'd cut the small slice too deep—and she looked at the white gauze wrapped around it; marking the contrast with the dark bronze of his hand and arms.

He never went shirtless and wouldn't be caught dead in anything other than his worn Carharts, faded patched jeans or khakis, so the skin on the rest of his body was pale in comparison...except for the scars...those bloomed in purple reds and paler pinks on his back, chest and sides. There were even livid stripes marring the dimpled small of his back as it curved into the soft flesh of his ass, which brought tears to her eyes, imagining the agonies he'd endured as a young child to earn them.

That was the one place he still had a hard time letting her touch; it was a guaranteed flinch unless they were well into it and his desire overruled his fears and then he would suffer the caress of her hands, soft, careful there as he moved within her, his muscles taut as the speed of his thrusts increased, her fingers soothing over the differences in the cream soft skin and tight thick scars.

The through and through mark left by a bolt on his left side, low, nearer his hip, was almost white, more a ghost of a wound than the ones from his childhood. That one he'd suffered for her...for Sophia...back when they'd barely known one another. When he had shown her what kind of a man he really was.

Daryl was more complicated than most gave him credit for...

She'd asked him why; back then by the pond on the farm, why had he spent his time, risked his life to find her daughter, a girl he'd hardly ever said two words to and had last spoken to in anger.

_ "This whole time I just...I wanted to ask you..."_

_ "'Cause I think she's still out there...truth is, what else I got to do?"_

He'd thrown his lot in with hers. With the group he'd found a reason to go on after losing his brother; then he had given her reason to do the same after losing Sophia. He had kept her from leaving at the church after Terminus just as she'd pulled him back after Grady. That what was they were to each other, yin and yang, two parts of a whole.

All the things that had been ripped and torn from her, all the people, all the parts of herself that she'd lost or denied? The time they were alone together was what kept her stitched together.

Daryl was the one person she knew she could always be herself around, the only one she truly let down her guard with here in the ASZ. Even with Rick she held back, never letting him see how close she was to the edge, never telling about how she'd threatened Pete, never telling the others she'd stolen the guns...

Carol reached out her hand to touch the scar on Daryl's side where Hershel had sewn him back together, wishing she could have seen the kind giving man one last time, tell him how grateful she had been for what he had done for all of them.

At her touch Daryl stirred, opening his eyes, sleepy and content. His mouth curved into a questioning slow half smile and he took a deep breath, stretching out his arms and grunting a little at the pull that drew on his chest and abs. He was in the best shape of his life, but between his forays on the bike battling walkers with Aaron and the intensely passionate turn his relationship with Carol had taken, he was just plain worn out at the moment.

"Hey." Daryl murmured, hooking a hand around her elbow to pull her close. He fitted her to him, in close to his side and threw one long lean leg over both of hers to keep her there. His hands ghosted over her back lightly and then settled about midway, silently encouraging her to rest her head on his chest by tugging her closer.

"Hey." Carol replied, settling in, his strong steady heartbeat against her ear.

"H'come you're not asleep?" Daryl asked, slowly trailing his hand up and down her spine in a gentle brushing motion, like you would test the softness of velvet against your cheek.

Carol gave a half hearted shrug of one shoulder, knowing it would just embarrass him if she told him she'd been thinking about how much he meant to her, how much she loved him...

"Worryin'?" he asked and she shook her head no, making him snort a little. As long as he'd known her she was always worrying about something or someone. That was just who she was: she planned; she cared.

"'Bout me?" Daryl pressed.

Again she gave him a silent no.

"Ain't gonna take it back." he said softly.

Carol raised her head to look up into his eyes. She saw sincerity and also a little fear that maybe he'd overstepped.

"So don't you be thinkin' 'bout –_worryin'_ bout nothin' or nobody else." Daryl grumbled stubbornly, his hand pausing its motion at the small of her back.

Carol felt the muscles in his chest tightening and she thought he actually sounded a little _jealous._So shesmiled up at him, a warm eye crinkling indulgent smile.

"What?" Daryl stared back at her, his eyes narrowing.

"I'm naked and alone with naked _you_ in a bed—not really thinking about anything or any_one_ else at the moment." Carol finally said, raising an eyebrow at him. It was their little pocket universe, this alone time in the night, when none of the day's worries had to bother them.

Daryl's hand ventured lower, curling over her hip to round the curve of her ass.

"Don' like yer fussy clothes." He said, a bit smug, changing the subject.

"I know."

"Like you naked."

"I know." Carol sighed as his hand grew bolder, giving her cheek a squeeze before returning to trace delicate circles there.

"Well—maybe _some_ things you wear are passable." Daryl mused.

"Such as?"

"Them boots..."

"You _gave_ me those boots—told me they were practical and sturdy."Carol reminded him.

The gift was one of several thoughtful things he'd quietly done for her at the prison, bringing little somethings back from his travels with Michonne or runs with Glenn and the others, always brushing off her thanks.

"Are you saying you had an ulterior motive?" she asked.

"Imagining you in _just_ those boots got me to a _very_happy 'ulterior' more times n' I can count..." Daryl admitted, his cheeks reddening.

Admitting to someone you used to jerk off to fantasies of them wasn't exactly in his comfort zone.

"Poncho." Carol said with a sigh. "You'd lay me down on it in a meadow blissfully free of noisy nosy people and walkers."

"Damn. A poncho fetish?" Daryl chuckled wryly, _"Really?"_

"More times than I can count..."Carol sighed dramatically, making him grin. "Too bad you lost it."

Daryl nodded. Last he'd seen it; it had been on some woman in Terminus. It was one of the ways they'd figured out the place was wrong, unfortunately, a bit too late.

"You still got them boots though..." Daryl murmured, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe some night when I'm not so tuckered..." he gave an exaggerated yawn. "Or maybe you'll start wearin' them again ...every day? Knowin' what I'm thinkin' the whole time?"

"Is this your way of trying to get me drummed out of the Junior League?" Carol asked, teasingly accusing him of sexual blackmail, but Daryl gave her a measured look.

"Maybe you don't gotta pretend no more." Daryl ventured carefully. "Deanna's listening to us, doing what she needs to get the place ready. You can maybe let go a little—be _you_ again...who you are with me... all the time."

Carol knew his preference was for her to end her deception, let the people here know just how capable she really was. He'd done it, shown them his value to them as a hunter and scout, going out on his missions with Aaron. She sighed again at the irony that the one most people always considered the outsider because of his rough exterior was actually the one who wanted most to fit in, to be a part of something.

They'd both had that, at the prison.

But it had all unraveled. Pull out one little thread and the tensions bursting at the seams had poured forth in nightmare fashion. She'd been holding it together: making Rick's desire to step back and raise his children possible by forming the Council, giving the kids the chance to survive that Sophia hadn't had by training them to defend themselves, letting Daryl and Michonne seek their revenge for Merle and Andrea by roaming the region questing for the one-eyed monster until Daryl's need to belong and contribute (and maybe because he missed _her_) brought him home to stay.

Then the dead did what they always do. They haunted the living, this time physically carrying with them a virus, an old pathogen from before the Turn that had devastated the prison in a matter of hours.

Carol knew how fast it could all fall apart if the wrong stitch let loose. How even the people you trusted most could betray you.

"I still don't trust them enough, Daryl." Carol told him, lowering her chin and resting her cheek against his chest again so she didn't have to see the entreaty in his eyes.

"Aaron's been straight with you...n' Eric." Daryl said with quiet insistence, brushing a reassuring kiss to the top of her head.

"That's two people out of a whole town." She replied.

"Deanna's –" Daryl began to protest, but Carol interrupted him forcefully.

"Deanna's a politician—she only shows people what she wants them to see."

"Yeah, well, maybe she ain't the only one." Daryl muttered, huffing out a sigh.

At that Carol pulled away from him and sat up, her face that bland mask he hated again.

She hadn't said it back. She knew he'd put himself on the line and she hadn't done the same. He knew how she felt, his phrasing, _"I love you too,"_ said as much, but she still hadn't actually said the words.

Right at that moment she knew that omission had hurt him. She saw it in his eyes, their clear blue stormy and troubled.

She also knew that if it came down to it, she'd say or _do_ anything to _keep_ him and hated that he had that power over her. She wanted him to stay in his little zipped up pocket, not burst out into the rest of her carefully pressed and patched together life.

"I'm doing what I have to do to keep us safe." Carol said carefully.

"You ain't invisible any more. You _ain't._" Daryl told her. "Or are you plannin' on sheddin' me like them boots? Keep me hid away in a closet somewhere so no one knows I'm yours?" he asked, squinting at her assessingly, waves of hurt and shame flowing off of him.

Carol's eyes suddenly filled with tears and her mouth trembled as she fought not to show him how perfectly he knew her. He was right. Every time they had shown any indication of their connection in public it had been because he'd initiated it. He made her _visible._

"Ah, shit...didn't mean it–don't—c'mere—" Daryl reached for her when he saw her tears, but she took his hands in hers and made him look at her instead of just going into his arms.

"You know it isn't because I'm not proud to be with you." Carol told him, willing him to remember how she had always shown him, right from the start, what a good man she believed him to be.

Daryl frowned, lowered his eyes and then looked back up at her from under his long bangs, slowly nodding in agreement even while chewing on the inside of his lower lip. He stared at her, trying to suss out what was going through her head.

"You're afraid." He finally said, shaking his head at her with a ghost of a sad smile.

"Aren't you?" she sniffed; her nose wrinkling from the effort at holding back her tears.

"Naw." He drawled, the corner of his mouth turning up as his eyes grew warm.

"Why?" Carol asked him, wanting to know his secret; how he could be so sanguine about this place with all the possibilities of danger and death lurking in every corner.

"All we been through—everythin' that's happened to us—we're still here, you n' me." Daryl said, echoing what he'd told her during their water run at the church and while they searched for Beth in Atlanta. "Long as I got that...I meant what I said... I'm _yours_, Carol... and _not_just when we're naked and alone." and he said it so gently and honestly that it hurt, ripped right through her chest.

Carol pulled her hands from his and wrapped her arms around herself, staring at him, her head slowly tilting to the side, the tears finally escaping to overflow and trail down her nose and cheek.

Daryl waited, patient now that he'd said his piece.

Carol thought back over all of her carefully worked out strategies, all of the ways she'd created the smoke screen from the moment she'd clumsily taken off that rifle and smiled her way through the lies she'd told Deanna. Every casserole and batch of cookies, every cardigan and pair of mom jeans hanging in her closet, all the ugly sensible shoes...

Could _Daryl_ fit? A hot romance with the resident bad boy that would scandalize the Junior League?

People gossiping about her sex life might be less likely to notice other things...and it would give Daryl what he wanted; a public acknowledgement of their relationship, keep him happy, let her stay in control, keep things between them from going bad... a stitch in time saves nine...

Carol looked up at his expectant face, wiped at her eyes with both hands and then leaned towards him, tentatively using her tear dampened fingers to close over his strong forearms, pulling him to her. When her lips brushed his ear, she whispered,

_ "I'm yours."_

* * *

I know. She does love him, but she's still afraid to say it and she's contemplating using him as cover. Sigh. Damaged.

Thanks for reading! Let me know your thoughts if you have time.


	13. Chapter 13: An Unlived Life

Preparations for the coming attack continue with a surprising new assignment given out at the Council meeting as Rick reasserts himself.

* * *

_An Unlived Life_

_I will not die an unlived life.  
I will not live in fear  
of falling or catching fire._

_I choose to inhabit my days,  
to allow my living to open me,  
to make me less afraid,  
more accessible;  
to loosen my heart  
until it becomes a wing,  
a torch, a promise._

_I choose to risk my significance,  
to live so that which came to me as seed  
goes to the next as blossom,  
and that which came to me as blossom,  
goes on as fruit._

~Dawna Markova

* * *

"Not here yet?" Aaron asked, coming out onto the porch of his house where Morgan sat on the steps calmly watching the people walk by in the early morning light, on their way to their assigned tasks preparing the Zone for an attack they feared would come any day now.

His gaze lingered a bit on Sasha and Father Gabriel as they walked past, the tough looking woman with the scoped rifle slung over her shoulder and the priest, in clerical black complete with white collar, seeming incongruous together. He watched as they met up with down the block with Carol and Daryl, another pair that he still had a hard time wrapping his head around, as they came out of the house they shared with Rick's family and the sword master.

"Ah." Aaron grinned, spotting the couple and then settling in on the step next to the other man. "On their way." When he still got no verbal response from Morgan he nudged him with his shoulder a little.

"Must be a story there." Morgan murmured quietly, staring at the lovely woman in the navy and burgundy paisley print sweater and dark wash boot cut jeans carrying a wicker basket covered with a tea towel.

By her side was the shaggy man in the motorcycle jacket and patched khakis, his crossbow slung over his left shoulder. They said their good mornings to the priest and sharpshooter and then continued on their way.

"We're all stories." Aaron replied, "We keep on living our lives. Adding new chapters."

"Until we don't." the pensive newcomer added.

"Well, they've just started a new one—together—and since I had a hand in turning that page I feel a bit protective of it—planted a seed and am enjoying watching it blossom." Aaron told him, a note of warning in his usually easy going voice.

"Not all blossom into fruit." Morgan zenned back at him.

Carol noticed the two men waiting for them on the porch, still about a half a block away, and she reached down her left hand and laced her fingers through Daryl's right, surprising him. He looked down at their hands, confused, and then seemed quietly pleased at the publically intimate gesture coming from her, a small smile curling up one side of his mouth.

They were meeting up with Morgan and Aaron to have a pre-meeting strategy session before the larger Council meeting later that afternoon. Their prior experience with the men who called themselves "Wolves" was the main qualification of the men, but Daryl wanted Carol there because of her unique ability to size up any situation and strategize all of the possible scenarios they could be facing.

Aaron knew that for whatever reason, Carol didn't yet feel comfortable with letting everyone in on her true role in their rescue from Terminus, but her abilities, coupled with Morgan's at defensive tactics were what Aaron and Eric believed would allow them to survive what was coming. They wanted an already well thought out plan to present to Deanna and the rest today as a fait accompli.

Meeting in secret with this smaller group early had been hard for Daryl—he was used to having Rick make all of the group's major decisions—but he knew they needed reasoned alternatives to anything the constable might come up with this time. Rick's behavior of late had been erratic, to say the least, and those who had known him the longest were more worried about his ability to keep it together than they'd been since they left the farm.

Carl and Enid were the next to meet up with Carol and Daryl on the street, and like them they were holding hands. Daryl and Carl exchanged a goofy embarrassed repressed nod of greeting while Carol and Enid smiled before continuing on their way.

"It's like watching baby bunnies and fawns in spring knocking about the meadow." Eric said from the open doorway behind them, _"Twitter-pated."_

Morgan grunted at the assessment, but had to agree. Dixon and the intriguing Mrs. Peletier were obviously still on the first blush of whatever...

Aaron stood up and turned to look at Eric with a frown, worried he was trying to walk without his crutches again. Eric had grown impatient with his lack of mobility, especially with the threat they were under, and had been pushing back against the six weeks off his ankle that Pete had recommended. Seeing that his partner was in fact using the crutches mollified him, but Aaron still moved to Eric's side, offering a shoulder or arm for stability.

Eric leaned on the door jamb instead, silently stating his independence. He'd hated being so reliant on others while he healed.

"Good morning!" Aaron said to the new arrivals, his smile only a tiny bit strained.

"Mornin! Daryl and I brought muffins for breakfast!" Carol announced brightly, smiling and swinging both the basket she carried and her hand linked with Daryl's a bit, making Aaron and Eric smirk.

"You wanna repeat that? I don't think the Andersons next block over heard you." Morgan said under his breath as Carol walked by him up the steps.

It had to be just a coincidence that the bottom of Daryl's bow just happened to bump hard against the back of Morgan's head as the Archer brushed past him.

* * *

Their plans met with some resistance from the larger group of the full Council, primarily because the original Zone residents couldn't envision anything that could take down their walls which had kept them safe for so long.

"A month or so ago I thought the same. Then a tank rolled through our fences." Maggie said, sharing a stoic look with Rick, Daryl and Michonne, who had all been there that day.

"They have big rigs—hauling around those semi-trailers they had the geeks inside." Aaron added. "One of them would make an excellent battering ram at our front gates."

"I've seen bullet proof glass taken out by a hand grenade." Daryl offered from his place standing between Aaron and Carol, side-eyeing her, "Few a' those mother f—" he paused, shifting his gaze to Deanna, afraid of offending her, "_fudging _things could take down these wall you're s' proud a' just as easy."

"Then what do you propose we do?" Deanna's voice was tight.

Daryl knew they were treading on dangerous ground. The leader's pride in her late husband's work on the fortifications was taking a bruising. They worked amazingly well at keeping out walkers, but live ones wanting to get in without permission were a different challenge.

"Hafta be able to shore up any breaches quick—almost immediately or we'll get overrun by both hostiles and the dead." Abraham grumbled from across the table, blowing out a hard sigh and narrowing his eyes in thought.

"What if we take the school bus and panel trucks and build on wall sections—like they did at Woodbury." Daryl suggested quietly, shuffling his feet a little.

All eyes turned to him; the tell-tale small eye wince and head duck as if he was expecting a blow giving away his discomfort with the scrutiny.

"Got a hole; plug it." Deanna nodded in approval, smiling at Daryl, "Good idea, Mr. Dixon."

Daryl nodded slightly then did his best to fade back into the woodwork. He felt like shit taking credit for Carol's idea, but that was the way she wanted it. He felt her hand fit itself to the small of his back, the small stroking motions telling him he'd done well and thanking him.

"I'll get my crew on it as soon as we're done here." Abe agreed with a small nod.

"We'll need triage." Maggie said, her tone regretful but forceful. "There will be people wounded, bitten—we need protocols in place."

"We need a doctor." Rick said, speaking for the first time in the meeting. He was calm today, back to and even keel, at least for the time being, and had been carefully observing the discussion and interactions in that lazy steel-eyed way he had. The irony of his statement caused many in the room to exchange a variety of amazed and _can you believe this shit? _ looks.

Rick passively waited for the minor imbalance in the Force to settle before he continued to speak.

"Some of our people have medical training—Rosita and Maggie are certified in first aid and Sasha was a firefighter—not a paramedic unfortunately, but she has good triage skills." His gaze fell on Carol, ignoring her glare of warning. "And Maggie's father trained _Carol_ as his assistant back at the prison."

Carol's hand fell away from its light contact with Daryl's back in agitation.

"Maggie's father was a physician?" Olivia asked, sounding impressed.

"A veterinarian—but he saved my son Carl's life when he was accidentally shot; saved Sasha and Glenn from the influenza outbreak—until Dr. S arrived he was our main medical expert." Rick explained.

"You want _Carol_ in charge of _triage_?" Maggie asked, an edge to her voice that made Carol take a breath and look down at her hands clasped in front of her, willing them to stop trembling. "Deciding who we try to save or _don't_?"

"Just like she helped save your _daddy_ when he got bit." Daryl reminded her, his tone warning and deadly, a whole argument playing out silently between those who knew what else she'd done at the prison. Daryl was telling Maggie to back off; Carol was uncertain as to why Rick was laying this on her doorstep and Michonne waited to see how it played out.

"Carol's got a cool head in a crisis; isn't afraid to make the hard decisions. We'll need that." Rick said coolly, nodding at her and then looking over at Deanna.

"Is this something you'd be willing to take on, Carol?" Deanna asked, curious as to why this was the first time she'd really heard that Carol was adept at more than baking. She'd suspected that there were unplumbed depths to the small woman, but this was an important skill set that shouldn't have been hidden.

"I'm...I'm not really very comfortable in a leadership position..." Carol protested demurely, frowning and biting her lip uncertainly, so convincing that Daryl had to remind himself that this was the person who'd single handedly taken down a nest of some of the sickest people they'd encountered since this cluster fuck all began.

"I would consider it a great personal favor." Deanna said, and then her voice dropped low, "You were there for _me_ after...when Reg..." she paused, blinking rapidly and grimacing slightly before going on more forcefully, "I know you can do this, Carol."

"She can do it." Michonne agreed, raising an eyebrow, daring Carol to disagree.

Carol looked up at Daryl, seeming to draw strength and reassurance from him. She squared her shoulders, still looking at him and he quickly winked at her, making her narrow her eyes at him as her mouth curled up the tiniest fraction. He nodded at her and she sighed and her eyes moved to meet Deanna's and she gave her a chin tilt of acquiescence.

"I'll assign Rosita to you for now—we need Sasha more in the tower—you can coordinate with Maggie about gathering what you'll need for emergency med kits." Deanna said, already moving on to the next part of their plans.

* * *

_ "_What the hell was_ that_?" Carol monotoned to Rick without looking at him when he came to stand beside her just when Deanna ended the meeting. Daryl had been summoned across the room, drawn into a discussion of whether or not he and Aaron should take back up with them on their next run, and if so, who should it be, leaving her standing alone, silently trying to decide how she felt about her new task.

"Using our resources where they'll do the most good." Rick said quietly.

Carol shook her head from side to side, a barely noticeable motion if you weren't watching closely, but Rick was. When he wasn't wrapped up in his own shit, he was a trained observer. He'd been focused on her body language from the time she and Daryl had entered the room.

He'd noticed the subtle change in them: Daryl more at ease with having her close, but still vigilant, protective; Carol fighting the need to constantly touch him, when not with her hand, brushing his hip with hers, a slide or lean of a shoulder connecting them, as if reassuring herself that he was real, here beside her.

He knew Carol's weakness was those she loved and how to use that as leverage against her if he needed to; _whom_ to use to keep her here and doing what he believed was best for the group.

"So you want me to Florence Nightingale it up if—_when_—we're attacked." Carol said, her voice cold and skeptical.

"No, I want you to grab an M-16 and start shooting the fuck out of the bad guys..." Rick said with a smirk and a shrug. "...figured this was a compromise you'd go for to keep your secret identity."

"And when I make a choice maybe you or Deanna doesn't agree with?" Carol asked him, finally turning to look at him, her eyes challenging him, "What then?"

"If you haven't noticed, I haven't exactly been making the best choices..." Rick said self-deprecatingly; adding in a low voice as he passed behind her to walk away, "Far be it for _me_ to refuse to let go of the past."

Carol bristled but held herself in check, refusing to give Rick the satisfaction of seeing her react. She looked over at Daryl who was deep in discussion with Aaron, Eric, Deanna and Maggie, and felt proud of him again for stepping up, smiling as she thought of how much he'd changed since the quarry camp: going from kid to man in these last two years of living in hell.

"Hey Carol." A gentle young voice and a hand on her arm drew her out of her thoughts and Carol looked up and into the warm brown eyes of another man who had come into his own since those first days in Atlanta.

"Glenn!" Carol cried happily, pulling him into a big hug, trying to be careful of his wounded shoulder.

"Sorry to interrupt your soulful stare-age." Glenn gave a little laugh at her enthusiastic greeting, and then whispered, _"I'm happy for you."_ into her ear.

Carol's cheeks pinkened a bit and she released him with a light swat to his healthy shoulder.

"How's Tara? I was going to stop and see you both on my way to..."and then Carol faltered. She'd been going to say _on her way to the pantry_ where she and Olivia had been working on the plan to divide up their supplies in several smaller protected basement caches so in case one was destroyed they'd have reserves. In addition it would create several safe houses where small groups could hold out in case of a siege by walkers or others.

"On your way?" Glenn asked when she didn't continue her thought.

"I just got a new work assignment—I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do next." Carol admitted. She should head over to the clinic and get started on those tasks; looking around for Olivia to make sure the somewhat tentative woman was ready to take the lead on the pantry project.

Jessie was also assigned to the pantry, but they had been cutting her some slack in light of recent events, trying to give her time with her boys, both of whom were acting out in different ways. Ron had become a full-fledged silently seething teenager, staying locked in his room unless forced to come out, and Sam had been going walk about, showing up at the various work crew sites unexpectedly. Carol was worried about him, but didn't want to insert herself in between the boy and his mother, who was not at all receptive to Carol's presence in his life.

"Carol?" Olivia came up to them, looking a bit worried.

"I'll let you go." Glenn said, giving her arm another reassuring squeeze, "We'll catch up later, right?"

"Of course." Carol replied warmly.

"He's looking better." Olivia said as Glenn headed over to his wife's side where he got an enthusiastic reception from the others standing with her, including Daryl, who had been furious when he'd heard what that "fuck boy," as he called Nicholas, had done to Glenn.

"The young bounce back quickly." Carol said. Her visible bruising might have faded, but the residual aches from every one of her injuries from being mowed down in Atlanta less than a month ago would be with her a long time.

"Hell hon—I knew Rick had been shot, but Carl too? And Maggie's father—he really was bit and lived? Aaron said a twister nearly took you all out right before he introduced himself—from what I hear it pretty much sounds like your whole group has nine lives—"

"Not all of us." Carol said as the faces of all those they'd lost on their relentless quest for survival vied for a place in her mind.

"Of course—I...I'm sorry—you just lost Noah—that was thoughtless of me—I can imagine how that must feel." Olivia stammered, looking remorseful.

"Never mind." Carol said dismissively. It was useless to try to explain the depth of their losses. "I hope you'll never understand what I'm feeling."

Olivia was sensitive enough to take the double-edged comment for what it was and after saying she'd see Carol later at the pantry, she turned and retreated.

"They're like children, aren't they?" Morgan said from beside her, making Carol turn towards him. "Sheltered here; thinking they were just going about their lives as if nothing had changed."

"When everything has." Carol nodded in agreement, having already made the same assessment of the group.

"Yours?" Morgan asked, wondering if she'd give him anything; any insight into what she'd lived through.

"I'm a woman of mystery, remember?" Carol cocked her head at him.

"And him?" Morgan drew her gaze to Daryl, whose attention was focused on something Aaron was saying, nodding along with him.

"No mystery to that." Carol said, a small smile playing along her lips as she watched Daryl scowl in disagreement with whatever Deanna was arguing for.

Morgan raised an eyebrow at her.

"I love him." Carol said softly.

* * *

AN: Thanks to my lovely constant readers. For those asking for updates on this, now that the semester is over I should have more time to write more on all of my stories.


	14. Chapter 14: Dire Straits

_**Dire:**_ very bad: causing great fear or worry; warning of disaster; showing a very bad future; requiring immediate action; very urgent  
_**Straits:**_ limited as to means or resources (_Merriam-Webster's Dictionary)_

* * *

_**Dire Straits**_

_I get so tired when I have to explain  
When you're so far away from me  
See you been in the sun and I've been in the rain  
And you're so far away from me_

So far away from me  
So far I just can't see  
So far away from me  
You're so far away from me  
-Dire Straits, "So Far Away From Me", 1985

* * *

The fall rains made everything they were doing take twice as long. Coming home every night, exhausted, dirty, wet and cold had tempers short. People were sniping at each other over silly things; little annoyances blew up into arguments and then to blows; at work their tools and weapons became slick and harder to handle.

Carol constantly found her preparatory work at the medical clinic interrupted with one minor emergency after another.

"What is it this time?" Carol asked with world weariness as the door to the clinic burst open, blowing in the cold and rain and a few autumn leaves.

She turned to find Sam, looking like a drowned puppy, clutching Daryl's bow in his arms.

"_They're coming."_ The boy yelled over the wind, his eyes huge and terrified, and then slid out of the way as two wet and staggering men blundered through behind him.

The red hair on the taller one gave him away as Abraham, and he was supporting someone dragging one leg. When the second man's head came up, Carol rushed forward, her heart in her throat. She pushed Abe away and supported Daryl instead; leading him to the table and making him sit.

"Close the door, kid!" Abe yelled and Sam complied, still holding tight to the crossbow. He leaned against the door, pale and shaking, watching the adults.

"What happened?" Carol asked, running her hands all over Daryl, kneeling to examine his blood soaked lower pant leg. Someone had tightened their belt around the leg under the knee to slow the blood flow.

"He ain't bit." Abe said quickly, knowing that would be her first thought.

"Stupid—" Daryl grimaced as she pulled out her trench knife and slit open the already torn muddy bloody khaki material over the wound, pulling it back and away. An already bruising gash was cut deep into his calf. She loosened the tourniquet and blood seeped out sluggishly, reassuring her that no major vessels had been severed.

"He slipped and fell—off the top of the bus—sliced open his leg on some aluminum sheeting." Abe explained, wiping his hand over his face and back through his wet hair, shaking it off like a hound. He looked over at the boy, who shrunk under his gaze. "Wouldn't have found him if the kid hadn't seen his bow layin' there."

"Rosita!" Carol called and the dark haired young woman appeared with a tray of medical equipment. Carol quickly cleaned her hands in antibacterial gel and as she worked to clean the wound site Rosita prepared an injection.

"Don' need that." Daryl growled.

"It's tetanus—you were scheduled for a booster anyhow—and antibiotics." Carol told him in a no nonsense tone, examining the deep cut to gauge how many stitches she would need to close it. "Don't worry; I won't waste any anesthetic on you." She looked up at Rosita and nodded.

Abe barked out a short laugh.

"Told him it was rainin' too hard to be up there—stubborn sum'bitch wouldn't listen." the big man told them, shaking his head at Daryl.

"An' when them mother fuckers blow a hole in the wall an' roll in here and make you watch as they carve a W in your woman's forehead?" Daryl snarled and then he gave an ugly low laugh, "But that's just foreplay—then they tie 'em to a tree and rape 'em an' leave them for the dead..."

Carol rocked back on her heels at the vehemence in his words. He'd already told her what he and Aaron had found out there, but hadn't shared the explicit details of it with anyone else but Deanna. The blonde tied to the tree had been the worst of it, reminding Daryl of his fears for what she and Beth might be suffering when they'd been separated.

It was also perilously close to her threat to Sam.

"_Daryl..."_ Carol said sharply, looking over at the boy who had crept closer as they talked. Rosita swiped an alcohol prep pad across Daryl's bicep and plunged in a needle.

"We can't stop—can't even slow down or it'll be too late." Daryl said adamantly, his eyes losing focus,"Gotta ...gotta be ...be ready." he frowned, swaying backwards and then dropped like a stone onto the table, his head hitting the pillow Rosita quickly slid under it.

"You knocked him out?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. "Said you wouldn't."

"I lied." Carol said and the boy cocked his head at her curiously while Abe grunted out a chuckle.

"The cut is deeper than I thought," Carol explained, "I need him under while I stitch him up."

"Imma get back to it." Abe said, "Like the man said—gotta be ready."

"Take Sam home first." Carol ordered Abe over her shoulder, ignoring the child as she continued to prep the wound site, but then stopped and turned around to look right at Sam, adding softly, _"Thank you for finding him."_

Sam nodded, blinking his solemn eyes like a wise little owl, and then carefully laid down the crossbow on the exam table nearest him.

"Be careful." Rosita nodded at Abe and gave him an encouraging tight smile. Abe smiled back and nodded. She threw him a clean dry towel which he used to rub roughly over the boy's wet hair first and then on his own face and hands, getting off most of Daryl's blood, and then he slipped back out the door with Sam in tow.

"He's going to be pissed when he wakes up." Rosita said, looking down at Daryl, cleaning her hands again so she could administer the tetanus and antibiotic injections.

"I'll make it up to him." Carol said, sharing a small smile with Rosita and then picking up the suture kit while Daryl slept on.

* * *

"We're supposed to leave in the morning." Aaron said, agitated, but trying to keep his voice low as he stood in the infirmary looking down at Daryl's sleeping form.

"He's not going anywhere for at least two days." Carol told him, crossing her arms in front of her. "I'd like him to stay off it for a week, but he'd never stand for that."

As soon as he'd heard his recruiting partner had been injured, Aaron had rushed over to the Clinic, the first of several visitors, including Deanna and Rick.

"He's lucky—it could've been a lot worse." Carol had explained to all of them. "If we can hold off infection he should heal up fine. May have a bit of a limp for awhile."

"What was he doing up there?" Aaron asked, rubbing his hand over his face wearily, the worry for his friend and fear for what this injury could mean to their plans evident on his open face.

"What he's always been doing; whatever he has to do to keep us safe." Carol said quietly, moving to return to sit in the chair next to Daryl's bed.

* * *

"I have to." Daryl had said the night before as he fed Judith. Both Michonne and Rick had been on patrol, and Carl was over at Ron's; so the baby had been their charge for the evening.

Daryl had showered when he came in from working with Abe's crew for the day and had changed into the clean black t-shirt and jeans she'd left out for him, ignoring the white crew socks on top of the clothes pile to pad around barefoot instead, his boots by the door if he needed them.

"You're good with her." Carol watched him, noting how incongruous yet natural the rough man looked with the little girl, wondered again at his ease with her. She'd never asked him about it, back at the prison, and after Woodbury joined them, with so many other willing arms to hold the baby, while he was off with Michonne, he rarely took a turn.

"She's gotta eat, same as the rest of us." Daryl shrugged, occupying himself with shifting the baby in his arms to re-position her to be burped.

Carol's face remained outwardly stoic, but Daryl could see the pain behind it. Saving Judith had cost her, and while she didn't resent or begrudge the baby her life, being close to another child wasn't something she could allow herself.

"You go on up—take your bath. I'll put her to bed; bring the thing up with me." Daryl told her, indicating the digital video baby monitor on the coffee table.

Carol stood motionless, still watching them, smiled a little at the hearty "_urp" _his ministrations extracted from the tiny perfect girl and then she came close enough to lean over and kiss both their foreheads quickly before going up the stairs.

They'd been discussing the necessity of his next trip with Aaron; her wondering if it was really such a good idea for anyone to venture outside the walls when they already knew they were facing a real threat. Deanna had felt that they need more, as much information they could gather on the Wolves—to know their true numbers—so that they could be better prepared.

She knew Daryl would go; knew his sense of duty and honor would compel him to leave her again. She felt selfish in her love, wanting him to stay, jealous of everything that would take him so far away from her.

He knocked on the bathroom door to tell her he was upstairs and she called for him to come in. He opened the door, but ducked his head when he saw she was still in the tub.

"I...uh...she's asleep..." he stuttered, holding out the monitor.

"We didn't finish our talk." Carol said, motioning towards him, "Come in—don't let the warm air out! Close the door and sit."

Daryl eyed the "throne" in the steamy small space warily, but then set the small electronic device down on the sink counter, pulled the bathroom door shut behind him, pushed the toilet seat closed and then sat next to the tub, staring down at his hands instead of looking at her.

Carol thought it was sweet, how he still could be so shy about some things. In the last weeks he'd had his hands and mouth on every inch of her, but in the assumed privacy of her bath he was a blushing schoolboy again.

"You want to go?" Carol asked him, but he frowned at her, unsure if she meant now or outside the walls with Aaron. Her eyes were huge in her pale face with her hair all wet and slicked back. He felt inadequate to the intimacy of being here with her, caring for a child together in this beautiful home, talking with her as she bathed, it wasn't like anything he had ever imagined doing. Life was harsh and cruel and Daryl Dixon hadn't ever gotten to keep anything worth having... and this? This was someone else's dream he'd wandered into...

"Never..." Daryl breathed, closing his eyes against the rising tide of emotion, his voice catching, lowering his chin, "...never want to leave you." He heard the sound of her rising from the water, stepping lightly from the tub and he reached for her blindly, pulling her against him, his face to her warm damp belly, her arms going around him as she enfolded him tightly.

It was scary, for both of them, to feel this way, this much. They knew from the book he'd kept them working at that you could hide in a relationship, use another person to substitute for your other addictions, to escape a bad reality. Life now was a bad reality pretty much all the time, dire situations a daily occurrence, but being together didn't feel like a hiding place from that...for them, being together _was _life.

She'd been so accepting of his scars that he'd known she must have her own. Daryl pressed his lips to the low curved horizontal one that had allowed Sophia into the world, then the stretch marks she'd been so ambivalent about letting him see at first. She loved them because they'd come with her daughter, but she had been shamed for them in another life, by another man, for her body as a whole for so long, that she hadn't known how he would react to seeing her.

Daryl admired the toned strength that their hard life had given her under her velveteen scattering of freckles and had gone nonverbal and worshipful when he'd finally seen what she was really hiding under her clothes.

He circled her belly button with his tongue and she shuddered, her hands going to his shoulders, and he continued up, engulfing one chilled damp nipple whole, sucking it into his eager mouth with a sound of satisfaction.

"You just go from zero to a hundred..." Carol gasped, arching up into the sensations he was creating at her breast. He had one big hand spread over her back, holding her to him, the other over her hip holding her still. She fisted the back of his t-shirt, dragging it up and off so she could get her hands on his flesh, felt the muscles ripple in his torso, and then let him urge her down to straddle his lap so his straining fly could push up against her heat, groaning at the incomplete sensation of pleasure their movements together were creating.

A sudden burst of infant distress came from the baby monitor and they both froze as the fussing rose to a full on heart rending cry.

"Didn't know cock blocking was an inherited trait." Daryl grumbled, resting his forehead against Carol's collarbone, making her chuckle. "I'll go check her—meet you in our room..."

Daryl stood and Carol slid down his body until her feet touched the floor. She kept her arms around his neck so she could hug him close before releasing him. He kissed her quick and then headed for the baby. Carol toweled at her hair getting as much wetness out as possible and watched on the monitor as Daryl entered Rick's room where Jude's crib was set up.

"What's the deal, ass kicker?" Daryl said to the child, lifting her up and out. He cradled her against his bare chest while he checked her diaper. "Sound mad at the world. Been there n' that ain't no fun—course I had reason, but what's your excuse? Piss your pants?" he asked then huffed, "Dry as a bone."

Judith's cries continued, so he walked with her in a small circle around the room, bouncing her a bit and actually humming and murmuring something. Carol leaned closer and turned up the sound to try and catch what tune it was. It sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. Giving up, she pulled on Daryl's t-shirt, grabbed the monitor and headed for their room.

She had started to doze off by the time he joined her, but woke giving a little shriek when he stuck his cold toes on her bare smooth freshly shaved calves. One of the joys of having regular hot running water was the choices in hygiene it offered.

She sort of admired Maggie and Glenn's determination to have a sex life no matter how primitive their conditions got, but one remnant of 'the world that was,' for Carol, was being thankful that their current situation in the ASZ meant that she got to sleep with a man who showered regularly.

"You got clothes on." Daryl pouted when his roaming hands touched cloth and not skin. He'd stripped off his jeans before joining her and had expected her to do the same.

"Well, you seemed a bit embarrassed to see me in the tub." Carol teased, pushing his hair back off his face. "Didn't want to strain your delicate sensibilities."

"Bath's..._private _time." Daryl said, blushing a little and avoiding her eyes.

When he was eight he'd accidentally walked in on his momma taking a bath once and she'd blistered his backside, calling him a "pervert." After that it was the only room in the house that had a lock on it from the inside. Then when he was older Merle had introduced him to the concept of jerking off in the shower, explaining that it didn't leave any tell tale signs on the sheets and how _"a little of that hair conditioner slicked yer piece right up nice."_

It gave him a bit of a confused notion about sexuality and bathrooms.

"Oh, I see." Carol replied, her tone serious now, realizing that may have been a place that hadn't been safe for him as a child; bad things might've happened to him there. "Even if I invited you in? Wanted you there with me?"

"In? In the _tub _with you?" Daryl swallowed hard and that little wince under his left eye let her know he was getting overwhelmed, but turned on just the same. She saw the flush of color start creeping up his neck.

"Or the shower." Carol nodded, softening her voice and stroking his left cheek gently, "Whatever you want." She watched as he silently seemed to mull that over, almost arguing with himself.

"Guess that'd save on hot water." he finally offered, wincing again at how stupid that sounded.

"Guess it would," Carol agreed, holding back her smile. "Next time." she leaned in and kissed him on the lips to let him know it was all right.

"Next time." he murmured, giving her a shy grin.

"So what were you singing?" Carol asked, in for a penny, in for a pound. "The lullaby to Judith?"

"Don't sing." Daryl said dismissively, skimming his hands down to cup her ass, smiling to himself when he found the hem line of the shirt.

"Sounded familiar..." Carol pressed, humming what she could recall of what she'd heard.

"Hearin' things." Daryl disagreed, pushing her onto her back and lifting the tee up over her waist.

Carol squirmed, but he kept her still with his hands gripping the points of her hips, leaning in to place a kiss high on the inside of her thigh...

"Daryl!" she protested his deliberate distraction, a little more stridently than she meant to.

Immediately he stopped what he was doing, sitting back on his heels, his hair falling over his eyes.

Carol sat up and took his hands in hers.

"It's okay, I didn't say stop." Carol said gently, pulling him towards her, wrapping his arms around her, and then hers around him, reassuring him that he hadn't done anything wrong.

"_So Far Away From Me_." Daryl said softly, resting his forehead on her shoulder.

"I'm not... I'm right here..." Carol said, running her fingers through his hair.

"The lullaby... " he told her, lifting his face to hers.

"_That's a sad lullaby."_ she whispered and he found her mouth with his. The kiss was sweet and careful, and he let her be the one to deepen it, her hands trailing down the strong column of his neck, running her thumbs along his collarbones and out over his broad shoulders, pushing him back on the bed, continuing to kiss him as she lay draped over him.

Daryl found the hem of her shirt again and pulled it up until she broke the kiss and raised her arms so he could take it off of her. She smiled down at him, bracing her hands on his shoulders and he nudged her legs apart until they were on either side of his.

Carol groaned as she felt him roll his hips up hard against her while he leaned his head up to ask for her lips.

The urgent rasp of his whiskers against her face, along her throat as he kissed and licked his way down always thrilled her, as did the little whimpering noises he made when she used her hands on him, light lingering caresses or scritch-scratches with the tips of her fingers urging him on.

She'd always thought he had a feral grace, had enjoyed just watching him move as he stalked and hunted, rode his bike, killed walkers with knife and bow or whatever came to hand. She shouldn't have been surprised when he used that grace in making love, but several times before now she'd seen him be awkward around _her _especially.

His adorable face palm at the fail when he'd offered to carry her water back at the church, all those stammered _"Stahps"_ at her patient flirtations...they hadn't been because he didn't know about the mechanics of sex, they had been because he'd had so little experience of _love._

"_This okay?" _Daryl asked, reversing their positions so he was above her, holding back until he was sure of her.

"I'm okay." Carol said, smiling at his care for her even in this. She'd been accustomed to being used for another's pleasure; that he wanted and waited for _hers_ showed her trust in him was well deserved.

Daryl shifted enough to grab a condom packet off the end table. Eventually all of them left in the world would be past their expiration date, Carol supposed, and in a world where possibly ninety percent of the population were the walking dead, if humanity was going to survive there would need to be babies, lots and lots of babies...

Maybe for Daryl, but not for her.

Never again for her.

It was enough for her that he loved her and wanted to be with her, that they could share this and whatever time she had left.

As he merged their bodies she closed her eyes and felt that blissful sharp pain of regret that it wouldn't last, no matter how tightly she held on to him.

"_Carol."_ Daryl said her name. He did that more now.

She opened her eyes into his intense loving blue and raised her hands to hold his face as he began to move within her. He gave her that same smile she'd seen on his face when they were reunited in the woods outside Terminus that day. He did that more now too.

* * *

"We _have_ to go tomorrow." Aaron insisted, whispering vehemently. He stood next to Carol looking down at Daryl, still sleeping off the sedative Rosita had given him.

"Then he's not going with you." Carol said softly, "I'm the closest thing there is to his doctor, and in my medical opinion his injury would seriously limit his mobility and endanger not only him but the rest of the scouting party."

"Shit—it's that bad?" Aaron grimaced.

"If we don't let it heal properly he could have permanent muscle damage in that leg." Carol explained. "I'm no surgeon; I repaired it as best I could. Hopefully if there's no infection he'll be fine in a couple of weeks."

Aaron looked like he wanted to either put his fist through a wall or cry—probably both. He'd come to rely on Daryl's quiet strength and good instincts out there. Neither Eric nor his next choice, Glenn, was in any shape to go either...

"So what are you going to do?" Carol asked.

"I'll take Morgan." Aaron replied with a sigh. He'd planned to ask the Zen master to be the third man anyhow after the first impression he'd made.

"Better make sure he has his stick." Daryl said in a rusty drawl from the bed.

"You're awake." Carol said, smiling down at him as she checked his pulse.

"Yeah, no thanks to you." Daryl grumped at her.

"Plenty of blame to go around. You took a dive..._off a bus_..." Aaron accused.

Carol looked up at him sharply. To insinuate that Daryl had deliberately injured himself so he wouldn't have to go back out there—

"Fuck _you_. I'm stuck in _here_ watching Eugene tryin' to get with pantry lady—rather be out there ass deep in walker guts than have to see _that_." Daryl snarked.

"Fuck you. I get to be 'Grasshopper' 24/7—or maybe Luke—did we decide he's Obi Wan?" Aaron snarked back.

Carol sat with her mouth open. They were just giving each other shit. Like _brothers._

The sound of gunfire and screams stopped them cold.

Carol stood and pulled out the handgun she'd worn concealed in the back of her slacks waist under her sweater. Aaron followed suit and when Carol raised an eyebrow at the fact that he was also armed he shrugged.

"I was a Boy Scout." Aaron winked and headed for the door to see if he could assess the situation.

"Here." Carol said, handing her gun and a clip to Rosita. "Need to get him into the basement shelter at the armory." She ordered the other woman, indicating Daryl, who was struggling to swing his injured leg over the side of the bed.

"Bullshit!" Daryl yelled, but then fell when his leg gave out on him as he tried to stand. Carol swiftly moved to his side to help him up.

"They'll bring the kids there—I need you to protect them—please!" Carol asked him. Daryl grimaced, hating that she'd be going out into whatever was happening without him, but nodded. Rosita moved in to take her place to support Daryl.

"_Stay Safe."_ Daryl growled and then took hold of Carol's arm so he could pull her in for a quick hard kiss.

Carol nodded, grabbed and put on one of the backpack triage kits, unsheathed her trench knife, and followed Aaron out the door.

* * *

Dire _Wolves._

_Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think if you have time._


	15. Chapter 15: No More Let Life Divide

The Wolves make their presence known.

Warning: minor character death following closely the same events in the TWD comic's Jessick arc.

Disclaimer: Kirkman owns the comics &amp; a big part of the TV show, so the plots in them are his &amp; the other writers', not mine. If I did, Jessie would've been more than another man pain plot device and Rick would get his head out of his ass.

* * *

_**No More Let Life Divide**_

"_No more let life divide what death can join together." – _Adonais,by Percy Bysse Shelly

* * *

As it turned out the Wolves didn't have to tear down the walls.

They came over them.

They parked their semi-trailer trucks at the wall; the tops of the cabs just the right height for them to release the walkers, dozens of them, down and out onto the streets of Alexandria.

The strategy was a sound one. Loose the monsters on a complacent community believing itself safe behind its barrier; let them do your dirty work, and then come in after the slaughter to mop up. Minimal risk of manpower and if there was any resistance, have the snipers stationed atop the trucks take them out with kill shots, not head shots though; the idea was to make more walkers, kill two birds...

If they didn't plan to stay awhile, or if the walls weren't much of a barrier, like in Richmond, they went _through_ not over, but from the pictures they found in Aaron's backpack, they'd decided the ASZ would make an excellent new base of operations. Why waste time repairing the walls if you didn't have to?

They'd scouted the area around the town for several days beforehand, keeping track of the comings and goings of the citizens, what time patrols checked the outskirts, looking for the best time to attack. The heavy rain had given them cover, especially after Daryl's fall had shut down most of the exterior work for the day.

At the farthest section of the compound was a blind spot that couldn't be easily spotted from the church tower. They started dropping the dead over the wall, ten at a time in nets, releasing them to flop around like the catch of the day until they managed to climb to their feet and walk.

* * *

Because of the rain most Zone residents had been indoors earlier in the day, but once it let up in the afternoon they started to emerge and go about their business.

Rick had been urging Jessie to get out of her house, go back to work at the pantry, to contribute to the preparations. Carl had come along to do the same for Ron.

After hearing how Sam had saved Daryl by helping at the wall, his mother had realized that it was her responsibility to do no less. They'd been walking down the street, heading for the pantry when the herd reached the town center, a parade of death lurching up Main Street.

Sam saw them first and stopped to stare, unnoticed by the others who got about twenty feet ahead of him until his mother noticed he wasn't beside her and turned to look for him.

Jessie froze, screaming out her boy's name and then started running back to get him as the walkers started to surround him. Carl sprinted after her while Rick pulled out his Colt and machete and yelled at Ron, telling him to go sound the alarm. The boy hesitated, wanting to go help his mother and brother, but Rick shoved him, hard.

"I'll get them—you go! _Now _or we're _all _dead!" the constable ordered, snapping Ron out of his shock by pointing the Colt at him, and the boy took off at a run for Deanna's place.

Others on the street started screaming and running, someone with a gun started shooting; all it took was for a few to forget their recent training when confronted with the reality of walkers and pandemonium broke out.

Carl had made it to Jessie, using his big knife to take out the walkers in his path, but there were too many of them. He reached her, but saw no sign of Sam in the growing crowd of walkers even though she continued to scream his name. Grabbing the woman's left arm he started dragging her away, but she fought him.

"No! We can't leave him! He's just a little boy!" Jessie sobbed.

"He's gone! We have to get out of here!" Carl yelled, stabbing the closest corpse through the eye and pulling out the blade with a sharp _snick._

Just as Rick reached them, two large walkers, one in khaki rags that may have once been Army fatigues, and the other a leering lipless horror, got a holdof the struggling woman's other arm and leg, initiating a tug of war for her that Carl could never hope to win.

As the dead soldier took a gory chunk out of her thigh and the other latched his teeth onto her shoulder, Jessie screamed and took a death grip on Carl's hand and forearm, dooming him as well.

A few seconds later all Carl saw was a curtain of blood and he fell back, pulled up by his father's strong arms and then he was running, almost tripping over Jessie's severed arm lying in the street. The dead swarmed her body, giving them enough time to reach the safety of the med clinic where Aaron stood on the porch, firing at the closest walkers and beckoning the Grimes in through the open gate of the picket fence. Inside the clinic they found Carol, who was holding a weeping Sam against her.

"_Jessie?"_ Carol mouthed silently, looking behind them, but Aaron shook his head no. Carol's face fell and she hugged Sam closer, the bloody trench knife in her hand and gore spattered on her clothes telling the tale of how she'd waded out into the herd to save the child.

"Daryl?" Rick asked grimly, wiping the back of his bloody hand, still holding the red handled machete, over his bloodshot streaming eyes, looking over at the empty cot.

"Rosita got him to the Armory shelter." Carol said with assurance. She had checked after returning to the clinic interior with Sam and their way across the backyard had been clear of walkers.

Rick nodded, thankful for some good news.

"_Rick! Come in, over?"_ the walkie talkie hanging from Rick's utility belt came to life suddenly, just as the dead started to push against the waist high fence surrounding their temporary refuge.

"Maggie! Are the walls _down_?" Rick asked, furious and anxious. He knew Tara and Glenn would take care of Judith and get her to the shelter, but he still wanted to be there himself to watch over her.

"_Not sure—Sasha can't tell where they're all coming from—Abe and Tobin took one of the buses to do recon at the back and fill the breach if needed."_ Maggie replied.

Eugene's new system of digital video surveillance cameras on the walls was only about ¾ completed. He had warned them about the blind spots in the southern section, but the power grid had to be rerouted to that area before they could be put in place. They just didn't have enough people to do frequent enough patrol sweeps and finish up all the other needed tasks; it had left them vulnerable.

"How many walkers?" Rick asked.

"_Good sized herd—we're picking them off with guns from inside the houses, but they're gonna reach a critical mass and start coming in after us if we don't plug the hole quick."_ Maggie told him.

Rick raised his eyes to Carol, clearly looking for suggestions on what to do next.

"Stick with the plan. Get the best marksmen hidden up on roofs and get the rest into the basement shelters—black out conditions." Carol said, "Whoever is running the show needs to think we're all dead or turned before they'll come in."

"Trojan horse..." Aaron grinned. They had enough supplies, weapons and ammo in the four shelters to last a week. Some had complained about the rationing they'd had to do to make it possible, but Carol had been adamant. Siege warfare was as old as the first fort built and the first rule was if possible, wait the attackers out so they'd run out of supplies before you did.

In this case however, playing possum would draw the Wolves inside. After the attackers cleared the town of walkers using their pied piper system and gave the all clear, the townspeople would spring into action, roof snipers helping by ambushing any left after the little surprises prepared by Morgan and his crew were done with them.

Rick relayed the word to Maggie and those with her at the command post, including Deanna, who agreed.

"All right—we need to get Sam to the Armory shelter; Aaron will stay there and then we'll get rifles for Carl, me and Carol. We'll be up on the roofs."

If Aaron hadn't just watched Carol coolly wade into the middle of a herd armed with only a knife and not only come back alive, but bring the kid along for the ride, he might've wondered at Rick's adding her name to the sniper list. About now nothing would surprise him about the woman Daryl loved.

"We can't leave Abe and Tobin out there alone." Carl protested, looking beseechingly at his father.

"They'll make it back or they won't, we don't have time to go after them." Rick said, shaking his head, "Let's go."

Carl turned to Carol for help.

"I'm sorry Carl—we all have our jobs to do—it's going to take all of us to get safely to the Armory now—Judith will be there, Daryl's there, we have to get Sam there." Carol said in her no bull, serious but gentle voice.

Carl stared at her and looked down at Sam, who had just lost his mother in as brutal a way as he had lost his own, and finally nodded in resigned agreement.

"All right, I'll take point, Aaron take drag—try not to use your gun unless you have to, the quieter we are the better." Rick said, moving to look out the back window. "It's still fairly clear out the back; we're only two houses away if we cut down the alley."

Sam was still clinging to Carol so she had to pry his hands and arms away from her waist and force him to look up at her.

"_Sam!"_ Carol said sharply and he slowly raised his dull tear reddened eyes to her face.

"They got her, didn't they?" the boy asked, sounding hopeless.

"Yes—and they'll get us too if we don't go now." Carol said, making Aaron wince at the stark honesty in her tone. Instead of starting to cry though, Sam simply took Carol's knifeless hand and held it tightly, nodding to show he understood. He tugged on her, leading her over to the table where Daryl's bow still lay and she nodded back, releasing his hand so she could pull it over her shoulder, the weight a comforting reminder that she would see him soon.

"We're ready." Carol said, taking Sam's hand again and Rick carefully opened the back door, machete held at the ready.

Just as Aaron passed through the back door and pulled it closed behind him, moaning walkers broke through the front windows of the clinic, reaching their clawed hands through, grasping at the empty air as they tried to climb inside; knowing their prey was escaping.

As they ran they could hear more shooting and screams as they methodically took out any walkers who ventured into their path. Aaron felt fully vindicated in recruiting these people, these battle hardened survivors. He knew they were the only thing that stood between everyone here ending up joined in death with the rest of the Wolves' victims.

* * *

"Can you see anyone coming from the Clinic building?" Daryl asked again in his low gravel laced whisper. He sat holding his big Bowie knife with a silenced pistol in his lap in a wheeled desk chair in front of the play pen where Judith stood, clinging fretfully to the side, upset by the sounds of gunfire, something she had known meant trouble pretty much her entire short life.

"Too many bodies in the way." Tara muttered flatly from where she stood peeking out of a small peephole in the plywood nailed over the basement window of the street side of the Armory.

Walkers shuttled back and forth in front of her at street level; her sight line was filled with shoes and boots of all shapes and sizes, some almost pristine while others were covered in mud and other things she didn't want to think about. The worst though was the one small pair of almost blue bare feet in bloody bunny slippers.

"Better here." Glenn said softly from his mirror position on the other side of the basement.

"Will they know to come that way? Why don't we have a walkie to talk to them? How long are we going to have to be down here? Why don't you have your crossbow?" Olivia rambled nervously, hovering over Daryl, who winced away from her as if a fly was buzzing too close.

"_Eugene!"_ Daryl growled quietly, and the shock of not being called "The Mullet" made the other man shoot to his feet and quickly come to Daryl's side.

"Mr. D-Dixon, sir?" Eugene said softly, his brow screwed up into an extremely worried frown. That he wasn't totally freaking out was a surprise to Daryl, but he'd seen a change in the self-admitted coward since his rescue of Tara at the factory.

"You n'..." Daryl indicated Olivia with a bob of his head, "need to be loadin' clips for us now. Even for me since I don't got my bow." he added a bit sarcastically. He was still pissed he hadn't had the presence of mind to grab it when they left the Clinic. His throbbing leg reminded him he'd had other concerns, but he was still pissed.

"Carl will be with them." Rosita told Enid in a reassuring hushed voice. The teen was pacing the small open area between the stairs and the shelves of supplies stacked against the walls.

"You don't know that." Enid bit out flatly, continuing to pace.

"Rick will always make sure Carl and Judith are in the safest possible place, and that's here." Rosita said. She hadn't known Grimes long, but that was something she was dead sure of. His priority was always his children first. Sometimes it made him go off the deep end, but they'd all been there at one time or another since this thing began, so she had been willing to cut him some slack, maybe even more so than the others.

She'd seen closer than anyone else how losing his kids and wife had messed with Abraham's head...

"It's Rick—get ready at the door!" Glenn said to Enid in a harsh whisper.

The girl bolted up the stairs silently—she could move like a cat—her switchblade knife out and ready. They all heard the sound of footsteps and fighting above them, one, then two bodies dropping and then three quick knocks on the door to the first floor.

"_Rick?"_ Enid asked and the reply had her quickly unbolting and swinging open the barricade bar and locks.

To Daryl's relief, Carol came in first, with Sam behind her. The boy was even paler than usual and everyone else looked like a blood splatter pattern test gone wrong, shades of gore from red to black all over them from their battle to get here. Rick immediately stripped off his bloody jacket and then went to the playpen and picked up his daughter, holding her close.

Daryl could tell Carol wanted to run to him and embrace him too, the way Enid was now doing with Carl, but she was in battle mode and settled for a relieved smile. He looked at the small boy glued to her side and then up the stairs for any others.

"That it?" Daryl asked Aaron, the last one in, who was still at the top of the stairs resealing the entrance.

"My mom's not coming. She's dead." Sam announced, bringing all eyes to him. Rick looked away first, then down at Judith. Daryl exchanged a look with Carol and then Carl who sighed and put his hand on Sam's thin shoulder.

"Yeah. Lotta that goin' around." Daryl said quietly, welcoming him to the tribe of motherless lost boys. "Sorry kid."

Sam looked surprised. It was the first time Daryl had ever spoken directly to him.

"I ran—Miss Carol saved me—I couldn't save my mom." Sam said sadly and then looked up at Carol, "Can you teach me how to save people?"

A brief look of pain flashed over Carol's face.

"_I don't think we get to save people anymore..."_ the memory of what she'd said to him in that small room in the Women's Shelter in Atlanta, the horrible irony of it after Beth, Ty and Noah made Daryl look at her in empathy. He knew she didn't want to be responsible for another orphaned child; she'd been pushing this one away from her with both hands since the day they'd met.

"Carl?" Daryl said, "Get the kid a good knife and start workin' with him. Good way to stay busy while we wait. You too, Wednesday." Her deadpan air and dark hair and eyes had made Daryl dole out the nickname of the Addams family's daughter to Enid.

Enid scowled at him, but Carl looked glad for something to keep him busy and led the boy over to the wall where the weapons were hanging, moved down here from the upstairs racks.

"How many rounds do we have for the scoped rifles?" Rick asked, coming closer to Carol.

"For the five we have down here two boxes of a hundred rounds each." Carol said, "Same in the other shelters."

"Goin' with the plan?" Daryl asked.

Aaron, Rosita, Olivia and Eugene came closer. Glenn and Tara stayed on watch, but divided their attention between the walkers outside and the conversation inside.

"You should call in first—see if Maggie knows anything new." Carol told Rick who looked briefly panicked when he reached down and his walkie wasn't at his belt. Carol took it out of her coat pocket and handed it to him.

"That last pesky little walker..." Carol said wryly, obviously understating whatever had happened. "Knocked it loose."

The one she meant had been a beast. It must've been a WWF wrestler or a pro linebacker on steroids in life. It was simply the biggest ugliest walker any of them had ever seen. It had grabbed on to Rick in a mockery of a loving embrace, trying to crush him, pinning his arms to his sides.

As he struggled to escape he lost both the Colt and the walkie. The rising egg of a contusion on his forehead was from the insane head butt he'd tried to get free. Next thing he knew he was on the ground trying to catch his breath.

"My ears are still ringing a bit..." Rick gave a snort and shot a small grin of thanks to his son. Carl had scooped up the Python and fired point blank into the walker's temple, perilously close to Rick's head, but it had taken it down and let them make it into the Armory. He took the walkie from Carol, grateful that she had the presence of mind to grab it, thanking her as well with a shoulder pat.

Daryl was glad to see the camaraderie was still there between his friends. Since coming to the ASZ things had been different, strained, as they all pursued different paths to find their way here.

While Rick checked in, Carol brought Daryl his bow.

"You keep leaving this thing places." Carol teased mildly, handing it to him.

"Just wanna give you a reason to keep findin' me." Daryl shrugged, resting the bow against the side of his chair, cocking his head to the side and squinting up at her.

"I don't need a reason." Carol said softly.

Daryl reached out his hand to her and she grasped it firmly. This was what she knew she was good at; she was strong and capable in a crisis. It was in the down time between them when she could falter. Self reflection made her doubt; the memories haunted her if she had too much time to let them in. Daryl could pull her back from the brink.

The look they gave each other was soul deep.

Daryl pulled her closer and she leaned in and kissed him, but they were interrupted by Rick clearing his throat.

"_Never fails."_ Daryl grumbled against her lips and Carol smiled a tiny smile as she pulled away.

Rick looked down at their still joined hands and the corner of his mouth tilted up in a little grin, happy for them, but then his expression darkened as he thought of Jessie. Guilt washed over him and he brushed a kiss to Jude's sweet smelling head as she looked at Sam and Carl.

Jessie had died because she'd tried to save her child. He'd killed her because he was saving his.

Rick handed the walkie off to Aaron so he could talk to Eric and then approached Daryl and Carol, who were looking at him expectantly. She noticed his gaze fixed on the boys and realized what he must be thinking.

"I'm sorry about Jessie." Carol offered. She hadn't really approved of the budding relationship, but hadn't wished the woman gone, especially not like this, by Rick's hand. She hadn't let Sam see, but couldn't stop him from hearing his mother's screams.

Rick just nodded in that way he did when he had no words.

"Maggie said all the survivors are in the shelters—we lost seven—Abe made it back, but Tobin's dead—picked off by snipers." he paused a moment to let that sink in. Rosita looked relieved; the others regretful that they'd lost more people.

Eugene looked at Olivia's stunned face, imagining what she was thinking—if someone as good with weapons as Tobin could die, what chance did they have?

"Abe said it looks like they pulled their big rigs up to the wall and tossed the dead over." Rick continued.

"Shit." Daryl bit out angrily. "Spent all this time worryin' about them assholes knockin' down the walls. Over or under works just as good."

"If they have snipers up high—" Carol said leadingly and Rick swore.

"So much for that part of our plan—they'll be able to see us on the roofs." Carl said from over in the corner.

"Sasha and Spencer are still in the tower." Glenn added as Aaron handed him the walkie to talk with Maggie. It was dangerous for them to remain there; if they were spotted they'd be attacked, but the Intel they could provide was invaluable.

"Looks like it's Morgan's show now." Carol said. "He and his crew will be setting up."

"Batten down the hatches then. We still have to wait for them to decide we're all dead before they come in." Rick nodded with a grim grin.

"I sort of feel sorry for the assholes." Daryl drawled with a matching feral expression and dark chuckle.

* * *

_So we have the end of Jessick. I pretty much followed what happened in the comics: Rick taking her out when she endangered Carl during a walker attack._

_I would like to think they would be this prepared when the Wolves attack, but considering how poorly they dealt with the fall of the prison, I won't hold my breath, LOL!_

_Thanks for sticking with me! I hope you are enjoying my take on the ASZ._

_I can't tell you how much I appreciate those of you who favorite and follow and have time to leave me reviews!_


	16. Chapter 16: Hook, Snare and Pit

A bit of Carol and Morgan's inner concerns and motivations are uncovered as the Wolves prepare to move on the ASZ.

* * *

_**Hook, Snare and Pit**_

"_The wolf dreads the pit-fall, the hawk suspects the snare and the kite the covered hook." _-Horace, ancient Roman poet

* * *

"I don't think I can take much more of this." Daryl sighed quietly from his place sitting on the basement floor leaning against the wall next to where Carol stood on watch at the front window.

"Do you need another pain pill?" Carol asked, looking down at him.

Rosita glanced at them from the back briefly, but then resumed her vigilant stare through the small knothole in the plywood.

They had been in the basement of the Armory for two days and nights, waiting. It was just before dawn of the second night and they were the only ones awake.

The eerie distant sounds of the rock music the Wolves used to "call" the walkers seeped in through the barriers. It had started at dusk and they'd decided that meant in the morning the invaders were planning on coming in, after the Zone had been cleared of the dead.

The rest of the group was sleeping, getting as much rest as possible before the battle sure to come.

"Naw—ain't that. It's just the waitin'" Daryl grumbled softly, shifting his crossbow off his lap to his side.

"Thought you'd be used to it—from hunting. Sitting up in a deer blind all day?" Carol asked.

"That ain't huntin'," Daryl grunted, "That's shootin' fish in a barrel while sittin' on your lazy ass drinking beer and tradin' lame ass jokes till you fall out of the tree."

"_Aaand_ that pretty much sums up my dead husband." Carol smiled wryly and shook her head.

"He hunted?" Daryl scoffed, "Never heard him offer when we'as back at the first camp."

"No, that would've meant doing actual work...and not being there to make sure I didn't make any friends or talk to any men." Carol said matter of factly and Daryl grunted in agreement. It had only been about two years chronologically, but felt like at least a couple of lifetimes ago.

"Not many of us from back then left." Daryl looked around the room.

Carol realized they were all here together—Rick, Carl, Glenn, she and Daryl. Even Judith, as a part of Lori and Rick, had been with them since the start.

"Did you think, when all of this started, that any of us could make it?" Carol asked, curious.

"Honestly?" Daryl asked, raising an eyebrow. "Rick had his family to protect, n' I knew Glenn was fast on his feet, the rest of ya, not so much." and then he chuckled, "You protectin' Sophia and then bashin' old Ed's head in the next day gave me some hope though."

Carol pursed her lips at him and frowned, remembering the blind terror of that night, feeling helpless as the walkers overran the camp.

"_You _helped save us—I didn't do anything." she protested. Back then she hadn't known how.

"You put yourself between your little girl and the dead—saw it." Daryl said. "You took care of her...of _them._.. best you could."

Carol felt herself starting to tear up and she looked away from Daryl's intense gaze and back out the window spy hole, thinking of all her girls.

"You have a little girl?" Sam's sleepy voice said softly from where he'd been bedded down near Carl.

Carol closed her eyes in a wince and sighed before returning to her watch.

"You're s'pposed to be sleepin' little man." Daryl admonished the boy quickly, leaning forward so he could meet Sam's eyes in the early morning gloom. "Gonna be a long day."

"I'm just going to be in here." Sam said dismissively, getting up and coming over to Daryl.

"Protecting Judith—you got your knife—gonna need you in here, buddy." Daryl said with an odd brusque gentleness.

A hint of a smile played at Carol's lips as she looked quickly at the two of them. Sam stood straighter, his hand going to the hilt of the knife in the scabbard at his belt.

"Can I get _two_? Like you?" Sam asked, pointing to the second smaller knife, the one that had been Beth's, which hung at Daryl's belt.

Daryl stared at the boy for a few beats before he gave him a crooked pained little smile and shook his head no before replying,

"Let's see how you do with the one you got first, okay?"

Sam nodded but frowned, clearly still thinking that more weapons would be better.

"I want to learn to shoot too." the boy said stoutly.

"Do what you're told today n' I'll teach you myself." Daryl promised, hoping they'd both still be around for him to fulfill it.

Sam's face lit up and he looked up at Carol to see if he could really believe what Daryl had said, as if he was asking her permission, as if she was the one responsible for him now, trying to set his hook into her heart.

She continued to look out the hole in the window barricade.

"Go on—back to sleep now." Daryl told the boy, covering for Carol's lack of a response.

Sam looked disappointed, but went back to his bedroll and lay down.

"Gonna have to sort that out, we make it outa here." Daryl said, for Carol's ears only.

Without looking at him, she sighed.

* * *

Morgan's journey to the Zone had been different than the rest. There came a day when the town he had adopted as his own was just_... clear. _He was the last man, living or dead in that part of King County.

He stood at the graves he had dug for his wife and son.

_(We bury the ones we love and burn the rest...)_

"I think I am done here. I think...I think...I'm ready now. I will always, _always_ love you. I want to be with you..." He looked down at the pistol he held in his hand, tested its weight, balance, opened the chamber and checked to make sure it was fully loaded, snapped it closed and stared at the ground.

The cry of a hawk drew his head up. He looked across the road to the burnt out brick foundation he used as a charnel pit, the last of the smoking blackened corpses piled in a pyramid pyre.

_Away with you._

He had painted those words on the outer wall himself, months ago, an admonition to the living and a prayer for the dead within.

The hawk circled lower, over his head, so close he could see its eyes, golden yellow and fierce. It gave its eerie cry again and then soared up and over the ruins across the street, heading north.

_Away with you._

Morgan watched it go until it was too small to see and then turned back to the graves.

"Still bossing me around?" he shook his head, smiling through his tears and touched the shoulder of the larger cross, running his hand along it in a caress. Returning the gun to its holster he reached over and removed the key chain rabbit's foot from the nail on Dwayne's marker and pocketed it.

He left three days later, heading north: the direction that Rick and his people had taken when they'd left him.

* * *

"All life is precious." Morgan said.

They were in Aaron's house, the pre-meeting before the big Council gathering at Deanna's. Sitting around the dining table with Carol's gift basket of muffins and mugs filled from pots of tea and coffee gave the illusion they were just sharing brunch, but in reality they were talking life and death; preparations for the wolf at the gate they all knew was coming.

Carol and Daryl, Eric and Aaron were asking him about the things Rick, Michonne and Carl had told them, the ways he'd protected himself and cleared the town he'd been in.

"All life is precious." Morgan said again.

"Even the lives of the people who are trying to exterminate us?" Carol asked.

"We can protect ourselves without taking lives." Morgan said patiently.

Carol shook her head at him, dismayed by what she saw as his naiveté; that same streak of fatal optimism in the goodness of man that had been in Tyreese. She looked at the others for confirmation of her frustration.

"Okay. _How_, Ghandi?" Daryl asked tersely.

Leave it to Daryl to cut to the chase.

"Make it more trouble to get at us than it's worth it for them. Lethal force isn't necessary" Morgan said.

"Rick said you had that whole town center booby-trapped." Daryl gave the other man a dead pan look of disbelief. "Had pit-falls, trip wires with bloody axes at the end of 'em—that you was sniping at them from the roof—sounds pretty _lethal _to me."

"That isn't me anymore." Morgan said in that same maddeningly patient tone.

"Well, that's the _you_ we need." Aaron said emphatically. "They come in, they're coming for blood. They'll kill every man, woman and child—brutally—and they'll _enjoy _doing it. Is that what you want? For them to murder Carl? Judith?"

Morgan's face remained passive, resisting the snare of responsibility for these people, but his right eye twitched.

"We all have to _choose_, Morgan. All life may be precious, but some lives _have_ to mean more to us than others." Eric said sagely.

Morgan's breathing began to quicken and then he very deliberately took several deep breaths to center himself.

Eric and Carol exchanged a look and he gave her a little, almost imperceptible, nod.

"You helped Rick, Morgan." Carol said evenly, choosing her words carefully.

"I did." Morgan agreed softly.

"And Aaron and Daryl." Carol said.

Morgan looked over at the two men and nodded.

"That makes you _one of_ _us_." Carol told him. "Part of this community." And then she leaned across the table and stared him down until she had his undivided attention.

Morgan took another deep breath and let it out slowly. He had been alone for so long, had grown comfortable with it, knew his task and did it well...but wasn't _this _why he had left that empty place looking for Rick Grimes? To be part of something again? To rejoin the living?

"_Help us_." Carol said, those expressive eyes of hers boring into him.

"Help you kill people—like Rick did the night I got here?" Morgan asked. That unresolved tension had kept an invisible wall between him and the man he had met so long ago in King County.

"We're not talking about going out there and hunting them down." Aaron said. "Help us plan _defenses_ for when they come after us. You know they will."

"_Defenses..."_ Morgan let the word roll around in his mouth, testing it.

The rest of the group waited, some more patiently than others. Daryl stroked his chin whiskers and pushed his thumbnail against his lower lip, glaring at Morgan until Carol reached over and took his other fisted hand in hers under the table, calming him.

Morgan tapped his fingers on the wooden surface of the table in an irregular rhythm, frowning to himself as he looked off into the distance, seeming to be listening for something only he could hear. His eye landed on a framed photograph of Aaron and Eric which was displayed on the wall along with dozens of license plates.

The men were standing in a forested landscape, a river or lake behind them. Eric was holding out his leather protected forearm, upon which was perched a large magnificent bird; Aaron looking on proudly from beside him.

Morgan stood and went over to the photo, looking at it intently.

"I had that with me—it's one of my favorite pictures." Aaron explained. "Eric volunteered at the Potomac Raptor Center—that was a hawk he helped rehab and was releasing back into the wild that day."

The bird looked exactly like the one that had started him on the journey that had led him to this place.

Morgan turned back to the table and looked at them each in turn and then slowly nodded.

"I'll need a crew."

* * *

The last of the group of rough looking men and a few women dropped to the ground inside the walls of the ASZ and assembled around their leader, awaiting instructions. Most held hand weapons, machetes, knives and other blades,and long handled hammers. One or two had compound bows and a few carried guns. All wore the distinctive "W" carved into their foreheads.

"How many head you figure we lost?" the tall blonde man at the front of the group asked the man next to him.

"At least twenty—had some kick-asses in here, that's for sure." the heavyset man with a steel gray flat top buzz cut said, sucking on his teeth. He was displeased that the ASZ residents had been able to take out so many of the walkers he had so carefully prepared. He hoped the tally of the Zone casualties would even out the numbers.

"Have to go house to house, flush 'em out." another man, one of the ones Morgan had encountered in the woods, the dark haired one he'd spoken to, said with a big smile, brandishing an axe and resting it on his shoulder.

"Heart shots—and leave the arms and legs on them—we need more ambulatory." the blonde man ordered.

"Am-_bu_-la-tor-ree?" the axe man asked quizzically.

"_Walking."_ the buzz cut said impatiently.

"Shit—why din't you just say that then, Alex?" Axe man grunted derisively.

Before he could turn away or raise the weapon he held, the big blonde's fist slammed into his gut and when he bent forward in pain, the beat down continued. Boss man put his hands together in a double fist and whammed his victim so hard between his shoulder blades that he was laid out onto the ground.

"_Who am I?"_ the blonde man said in a tight low voice of command.

"_Lu-lupus Dei..."_ the axe man groaned, rolling into a tight ball of pain.

"That's right—you are the _Pack_. I am your _God. _Alexander Davidson was a weak shell that I devoured to _become._ We are Wolves!"

"_We are Wolves..."_ the man on the ground choked out.

The man who had been Davidson, banished from the ASZ eighteen months ago, nodded in satisfaction and turned to the rest of his Pack who were riveted to the spectacle of discipline that had just been doled out. As one they repeated the chant:

"_We are Wolves!"_

"_We are Wolves!"_

"_We are Wolves!"_

Their leader smiled in satisfaction and then held up his hand to silence them and give the last instructions to his pack for the assault on the compound.

"You find the queen bitch that runs this place still alive, you bring her to me, understand?" the Lupus Dei said, his voice without mercy. "Name's Monroe, _Deanna_ Monroe."

* * *

Notes:  
_Alexander Davidson_ was one of the founders of the ASZ, banished along with 2 others for his bad acts early on, which is referenced both in the comics and on the TV show by Deanna in her interview with Rick and by name by Aaron in a conversation with Daryl.

_Spirit Guides/Animal Totems_: may "work by creating synchronicities to bring you greater awareness, sending people into your life or arranging for you to be in the right place at the right time to witness an unrelated event that provides revelations about your own experiences."

Carol has a _Kite _as her guide: (a medium sized bird of prey with a brown to grayish-white head)_ "responds with grace and gentleness...brings about truths and wisdom while keeping watery emotions in balance and will teach how to skim the surface of knowledge to collect what you need for the moment. Observe carefully what is around and resources will appear...able to bring great darkness into the light, being unafraid to fly, caring for and helping others, a spiritual messenger, inner and outer grace, a connection to death, the shadows and the underworld._"

Morgan has a _Hawk__: "the messenger of the Great Spirit, the protector and the visionary, delivering omens, spirit messages and blessings in order that you may see the larger picture; holds the key to higher levels of consciousness."_

Davidson has a_ Wolf_: _"... death and rebirth, facing death with dignity and courage, guidance in dreams and meditations, instinct linked with intelligence, social and family values, skill in protection of self and family, the outwitting of enemies, the ability to pass unseen and the taking advantage of change."_

_Sources__  
__arkive and __spiritwalkministry __  
_


	17. Chapter 17: Royal Flush

The Wolves continue their attack by coming inside the walls of the ASZ.

Warnings: Minor character death; discussion of sexual assault including graphic language.

* * *

_**Royal Flush**_

"_Perhaps we've grown so used to horror we assume there's no other way." Lord Varys to Tyrion, _Game of Thrones

* * *

"Hey, this one's already missing an arm!" said one of the men carving the four quick slashes into the foreheads of the new walkers before they were put onto the trucks parked just inside the main gates of the ASZ.

It was the second part of the mop-up operations following the initial assault on the compound with the walkers two days earlier. All of the "surviving" dead had been herded into pens and then the new kills separated out in preparation for branding.

"Just do it and shut the fuck up." His partner was holding it by the back of the neck with a veterinary capture stick as it snarled and tried to grab at him with its remaining hand.

"_Damn_—used to be a looker too..." the first man said, pushing the bloody matted shoulder length blonde hair back off its forehead so he could see the face of the woman who used to be a wife to an abusive man now dead and a mother to two boys called Ron and Sam.

"You ever fuck one?" the second man asked with a leer.

"Shit no." the first man said with disgust. "Ain't never been that hard up."

"Fresh-uns 'bout the same as a livin' bitch–fight ya so ya tie 'em down—so you can do whatever ya like to'em." the second man shrugged. "Fight ya too much and _bam!_ Right between the eyes!" he cackled.

"You are one sick asshole." the first man grimaced, cutting the first diagonal line into the pale forehead as the walker snarled at him, baring its teeth.

"Right—n' yer pure as the driven snow." the second man gave a grunting laugh of derision.

"Just like stickin' my dick into somethin' closer to 98.6." said the first as he finished the fourth line completing the W and motioned for the stick man to release the walker onto the chute leading up to the truck.

"Bound to be a few survivors cowering in there somewheres." the second assured him, dragging the walker backwards slowly. "We do our part, we'll get our share of pussy n' ass."

In the pack, sex was a perk, bread and circuses to keep the members happy and loyal. Those with the highest status got first dibs, but eventually everyone had a turn. That the stick man had practiced necrophilia meant that at one point he was the Omega, lowest ranking in the pack.

There were only two women in the group, both of them under explicit protection of the Lupus Dei, not to be touched except by him. One was his mate, Circe, the female alpha and as vicious as him. The other, Erin Yang, was a physician, her abilities too important to let her be used by the entire pack.

When Erin was first captured she had tried to object to the treatment of the other prisoners, using her medical skills to help them when they were returned to the capture pens, bloody and abused. She'd argued long and hard, protesting the inhuman conditions. When she refused to be quiet, Davidson had used other ways to break her spirit but keep her working.

The unblinking ability to commit ruthless acts to enforce his will had made the man banished from the ASZ the uncontested leader of the pack. In his world it was black and white, you were predator or you were prey. They took what they needed and wanted with no guilt or regret.

And what the Lupus Dei wanted here at the Alexandria Safe Zone was _revenge._

* * *

The Wolves charged with looking for survivors and plunder reached the inhabited houses around the same time as the men doing the branding worked at their task. The first home they came to was Aaron and Alec's.

When they stepped up onto the porch the trip wire they broke sent a dozen condom balloons filled with the pulpy juice of cayenne and Ghost peppers, grown right in the ASZ gardens, down on them, bursting and burning their eyes, mouths and any exposed skin. Water only made the pain intensify, which they found out when they tried using their canteens to wash away the stuff. Their angry screams and profanity filled shouts echoed down the street.

At the same time, four houses down, the place where Carol and Daryl had finally found a sort of peace in each other's arms, the lead man stopped at the top of the steps, having spotted the trip wire, and stepped high, over it, smiling back at the rest of his raiding party.

"Mat says welcome!" he grinned and when his foot came down on the door mat his momentum carried him forward, both feet impaled on the sharpened rebar spikes in the pit underneath the mat, screaming in agony.

The two men behind him fell backwards; stopping themselves from falling in after, but in the process broke the trip wire. More of the skin burning prophylactic vessels fell, dousing them in liquid fire.

At every house they tried, the Wolves encountered similar non-lethal but extremely painful booby trap measures put in place by Morgan and his crew. Their shouts and screams joining in chorus finally reached the notice of the main group at the front gates.

"I told those assholes to watch out for traps." the leader said, sounding annoyed. He gave a silent command and was immediately flanked by four men, his toughest fighters and his personal guard, who kept a watch out for any movement in the surrounding houses. He started forward, headed for the home he knew Deanna shared with her sons and husband.

As they moved further away, Sasha must've known she was losing her chance to take him out. A silenced shot dropped one of the guards who stepped into her line of fire after she'd pulled the trigger.

All three remaining men surrounded the Lupus Dei and rushed him to cover behind the red car Aaron used on his forays outside, looking up to see from where the shot had come. One of them pointed at the church tower and a group of five men was sent to go take out the sniper, who continued to fire. His guards kept the leader covered, returning fire.

There was no pause in the volley of shots coming from the tower; Spencer reloaded the rifle for Sasha each time she handed it off and took up the other he'd already prepared. She was able to take out two more of the ones sent after her before they broke through the doors of the abandoned church and pulled them out.

"I have your son, Deanna!" the Lupus Dei shouted, pushing Spencer ahead of him as a human shield. "And the pretty little sniper bitch you sent to kill me!" Like Spencer, Sasha was gagged and bound with her arms behind her back and was forced down the main street towards the center of town.

The door of the town chapel opened and Father Gabriel walked out.

"Ah _shit._" Daryl said from his vantage point at the spy hole in the Armory basement window. He'd insisted on taking a turn, propped up on a high stool.

The priest had come down strongly on Morgan's non-lethal deterrent side in terms of how they decided to defend the Zone from the Wolves. He had accepted weapons training, only as a defensive measure, and had become proficient at killing walkers. Killing humans? He refused to even discuss it.

"What is it?" Carol asked, coming close.

"They got Sasha and the kid outa the tower." Daryl explained, then growled, "Damn priest..."

"What's he doing?" Rick came forward, handing Judith off to Rosita.

They watched as Gabriel held his Bible up before him like a shield and approached the men who held Sasha. He got as close as they would allow and then stopped and started to speak. He was too far away and spoke too softly for the watchers in the Armory to make out what he was saying.

"_Too soon."_ Daryl muttered. "It's too soon—what the hell is he doing?"

"Trying to save them," Carol said, sighing at the foolish bravery of the timid man. He was visibly shaking but holding his ground.

The Pack leader looked amused at the priest's plea. Sasha was shaking her head at Gabriel, trying to stop him, but he persisted in his argument.

"I don't have a clear shot." Daryl said, watching through his rifle sight, trying to get a bead on the leader, but his men kept him well surrounded.

"You can't –you'll give our position away." Carol said, with quiet urgency and regret, putting her hand on his arm.

The Lupus Dei listened patiently, tilting his head to the side and nodding every now and again. He thanked the priest and then calmly took out his pistol and shot Father Gabriel through the heart.

"_Aw no..."_ Daryl said as the shot echoed down the street.

Sasha screamed and lunged forward, but Spencer blocked her with his shoulder before she could be knocked back by any of the Wolves.

"Deanna?" the Pack Leader shouted. "Is this what you do? Rely on a priest to spew his platitudes? Do you think I care about the wrath of your useless god? I _am_ a god!"

Daryl fell back, almost off the stool, looking sick. The rest of the group were equally shocked and bereft to different degrees.

The priest had overcome a lot since they'd met him, and had finally started to find his place in the community through his friendships with Sasha and Maggie in particular, who had been the core of his new parishioners. The man who had cowered in his church while his old congregation had died had just given his life to try and save two of his flock.

"We need to get ready." Carol said gently, sliding her hand up to Daryl's shoulder. He looked back at her, his eyes tired and sad, and nodded.

Out on the street the group continued their march to Deanna's house, leaving Gabriel lying in the middle of the pavement. Sasha's tears turned to icy calm fury. If the Wolves had any sense of what their leader had just unleashed they would've fled in terror, for these people, Sasha's people, who had come in from the road still reeling from the depth of their losses to find a chance at a life here in this place, would hold on to it in any way they had to.

Deanna was waiting for them, her hands behind her back, standing on her high porch, flanked by Abraham and Maggie, rifles trained on the approaching party.

"Davidson. You were warned what would happen if you came back." Deanna said, her jaw tight, her tone formal.

"Upon pain of death, wasn't it?" the self-style Leader of the Wolves asked. "My, 'oh so official' banishment?" he craned his neck down the street to the dead man that was just starting to stir, smiling in sick satisfaction. "_That's_ not exactly what you meant, was it?"

The newly made walker lurched to its feet, tripping a bit on the slippery blood soaked Bible at its feet before righting itself and scenting the air. The small crowd in front of the house drew its attention and it started forward with that unerring instinct even the freshest of them had for potential victims.

Before anyone else could react Maggie fired a clean head shot and the body flew back and down.

Deanna's eyes shifted to Maggie and gave her the barest of chin tilts. Maggie blinked away her tears and chambered another round and nodded back, returning her aim to the Pack Leader.

The guards reacted by all aiming their weapons at Deanna; Abraham cocked his shotgun and pointed it directly at Davidson in return.

"Now is that anyway to welcome home the prodigal?" the Pack leader said mockingly.

"You broke the bonds of trust and community. For that you were exiled." Deanna returned coldly.

"You threw me out because I had the balls to take what I wanted." Davidson made a rude scoffing noise.

"I threw you out because you're a liar and a rapist." Deanna said flatly. "You aren't fit to be a member of this or any other community. We have _order_ here—"

The four men surrounding the Pack Leader barked and howled, drowning her out.

"_What_ do you have? _I have_ my men inside looking for your people and outside overlooking Reg's lovely walls. I saw some nifty little party tricks from your hidden Joker and heard a touchingly heartfelt plea from that poor priestly Jack of Spades back there. But I know you, Dee. You _always_ have an Ace in the hole. So let's lay our cards on the table here and now—shall we?" Davidson asked and then he repeated, _"What do you have?"_

"What do I have?" Deanna asked thoughtfully. "I have a group of people all working together to make a decent life here—every man woman and child ready to defend each other and this place with their lives." Her voice rose, elocuting as if she was addressing the entire body of the Senate. "It beats anything you and your pack of murderous thugs bring to the table. We follow suit, Alex, it's a _Royal Flush_."

His guards and the men guarding Sasha and Spencer suddenly dropped without a sound, falling hard, boneless to the ground, their weapons clattering uselessly down next to them.

The Lupus Dei spun around in confusion and then reached for the gun at his hip.

"_Don't."_ Deanna barked, pointing a large pistol at him. "Now put your hands up."

Davidson raised his hands and smirked at her.

And then she shot him.

Davidson looked down at the tranquilizer dart sticking out of his chest and grabbed it, ripping it away from his body, fumbling for his gun, but it had already started to numb his extremities and the dart fell from his hand. He looked up at her, grunting as he fell,

"_You should've killed me."_

"It may yet come to that." Deanna murmured, dropping the tranq. gun back to her side.

She hurried down off the porch, followed by Maggie and Abe. Deanna released Spencer from his bonds and hugged him tightly to her. Maggie helped Sasha; they hugged as well and then started down the street towards the body of their fallen friend.

"Did we get'm all?" Abe wondered, looking up and down the street. The others were coming out of their hiding places to check on the prone bodies of the Wolves they'd taken out with the tranquilizer guns, both pistol and rifle styles, gathered from a veterinary supply warehouse where they'd gone looking for drugs and medical equipment on earlier runs. That they were useless against walkers may have been why earlier scavengers had left them behind, but they'd been essential to Morgan's plan.

After researching the best combination of compounds to render someone unconscious quickly, the community worked day and night synthesizing it and loading the darts. Each safe house had been supplied with both the tranqs. and live ammo as a secondary option.

Citing the example of what had happened when they'd left Terminus without making sure any survivors were dead, Rick had made the argument to the Council that lethal force was necessary. Morgan had countered that they had no way of knowing which of the group were traveling with them because they were captives and which were the kind of men he'd met up with in the woods. Maggie agreed, reminding Rick that they had taken in the people spared the Governor's wrath at Woodbury on _his_ recommendation.

The compromise was to set the booby traps and try the tranqs. They wouldn't work on everyone—different body masses required different dosages; too little meant they'd not go down, while too much could kill—but it was their best chance to take the raiders out quickly with the minimum number of casualties.

When they saw the rest of their pack, including their leader, go down, most of the remaining Wolves simply surrendered. They weren't used to encountering much resistance, preying on smaller communities or small groups of travelers. One or two who'd been concealed behind the trucks or pens tried firing into the houses, but were quickly taken out when their shots gave away their positions.

The only ones to escape were Circe and her guardsmen, who'd been up on the truck still parked outside the wall at the back of the compound acting as spotters. When they saw everyone fall at almost the same moment the guards dragged her, kicking and screaming for her mate, down off the vehicle and sped away, doing their job of protecting their mistress.

* * *

"We've got two to three hours before they start waking up. Need to get them to the holding areas as quickly as possible. Let's move." Morgan said in a strong voice to the people of the ASZ assembled in front of Deanna's house.

As the people went off to do their assigned tasks, one man remained standing still until he was the only one left. Rick narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side, staring up at Morgan, who remained unmoved. After almost a full minute, Rick finally shook his head from side to side and turned to walk away.

Carol, Maggie and Rosita were already working on assessing the fallen Wolves as the crew bound their hands behind them with zip ties in preparation for moving them. So far all of the Wolves had been rough looking men, their thinness, long unkempt hair and beards and strong stench reminding Carol of what they'd looked like just a few short weeks before. The difference having a safe haven made couldn't be more apparent.

The group they went to first was the ones injured by Morgan's traps. The man who'd fallen on the welcome mat spikes had bled out and turned, but someone had already ended him with a head shot. Carol was assessing the extent of the chemical burns on another when Rosita drew her attention.

"Carol!" Rosita called, making the other woman raise her head from taking the pulse rate of the bound man she'd knelt beside. Rosita was holding up a khaki Army issue shoulder bag with a red cross on it. She pulled out gauze, alcohol and other medical supplies and gave Carol a questioning look.

"Could be their medic." Maggie said, coming over and kneeling down beside Rosita. She pushed the tangled russet hair back off the face of the person who'd been carrying the bag. The "W" carved into the forehead was partially obscured by unevenly hacked off bangs, but underneath it they were startled to see delicate Asian features with a light sprinkling of freckles.

"It's a woman." Rosita said, looking up at Carol who had come to join them, "First one I've seen."

Carol looked thoughtful and then knelt to roll up the sleeves and then the pant legs of the woman. Raw looking bruised skin around her wrists and ankles showed evidence she'd been regularly tied up and had fought against her bindings. Carol stood and motioned to Carl and Spencer, who had been helping move the unconscious Wolves as stretcher bearers.

"Take her to the Clinic, please." Carol asked, but Spencer gave her an uncertain look.

"We're supposed to take them all to—" Spencer started to argue, but Carl interrupted him.

"We're supposed to follow _Carol's_ orders." Carl said in a firm voice, sounding very much like his father, staring Spencer down. Finally the other man shrugged and lowered his end of the stretcher as well, preparing to move the young woman.

* * *

"What's the final tally?" Daryl asked. He and Carol were back in the Clinic, its wooden storm shutters pulled closed over the windows broken out by the walkers. They sat at the small table in the galley kitchen area with his injured leg propped up on another chair.

The woman they'd found among the Wolves was laying in one of the cots, still out. She was malnourished and dehydrated, so after stripping, bathing and treating her injuries, Carol had started an IV to get some fluids into her. At Daryl's insistence, she was in restraints, strapped to the cot until they could question her. He was taking no chances.

"There were only eighteen of them. All that mayhem and that's all the more of them there were." Carol said, shaking her head.

Their tactic of releasing the dead first to do their dirty work must have been working quite well for them as a strategy. They were able to take over most places with relative ease and used the traps, like the one that had almost gotten Aaron and Daryl, to replenish their stocks of walkers.

"Mighta been more outside got away." Daryl reminded her, "Might be regroupin' right now. Some stubborn _lone_ wolfie bitch even... Mountin' some crazy, balls to the wall _rescue_ attempt..." and then he side-eyed her, serious and teasing all at the same time.

"We're doing everything we can." Carol replied, but then narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips at him for teasing about her role at Terminus and he chuckled.

"Yeah—between the Mullet and the Watch not much else we can do now but wait." Daryl nodded. Finishing Eugene's surveillance system was top priority, and one which was being supplemented with around the clock live guards stationed at regular intervals around the walls atop the trucks confiscated from the Wolves.

The pit for walkers inside them wouldn't be ready until morning, along with the graves for the Zone family they had lost.

"And bury even more of our dead." Carol murmured, crossing her arms over her chest, looking down, closing in on herself. She was frustrated, distressed that even though overall the plan seemed to have been a success, they'd still lost people—Tobin, Jessie, Gabriel and the others.

"_Hey."_ Daryl reached out his left hand, palm up, sliding it across the table towards her, _"We're still here."_

Carol's downward gaze shifted to his hand, open, beckoning to her, asking her to hold on; to stay with him. Her arms slowly loosened until her right hand was free to find his and closed over it, fingers intertwining, holding on tightly.

"Deanna still set on starting the interviews tomorrow?" Daryl asked, pushing her to think about what was next.

"She agrees with Morgan that some of them may have useful skills and just fell in with Davidson out of necessity." Carol said, looking over at the woman on the cot. If she really had medical training, they could definitely use her.

Daryl nodded pensively, thinking back on his time with the Claimers, wondering if he'd have given in and become like them if he'd never found Rick and the others. It was something he didn't let himself consider too often.

"You think that's likely?" Daryl asked.

"If not, then what do we do with them?" Carol asked, looking at Daryl, her expression troubled, both of them knowing what the alternative would have to be, the same fate that almost certainly awaited the Lupus Dei.

"_You're going to have to kill them all."_ The young woman on the cot said, giving voice to their dark thoughts in a soft weary monotone.

* * *

AN: The kind of ethical dilemmas that TWD brings up are often centered around the quandary facing the ASZ in this story on how to deal with the Wolves. Just as Ty and Daryl overruled Rick's more cut throat plan at Grady, the Council backs Morgan over Rick and uses non-lethal measures to defend the community. It seems to work, but as Carol asks at the end of the chapter, (and as Rick silently asks Morgan) now what do you do with them? It's the same question going back to the Farm with Randal &amp; his group. How can you let a band of sadistic rapists and murderers live?

Thanks for hanging in there. This one took a lot of thought. Sorry I had to go so graphic with the opening conversation, but I really wanted to establish just what kind of people they are dealing with in the Wolves.

And by the way, a condom can hold a gallon of liquid. See other uses for them at:willowhavenoutdoor dot com


	18. Chapter 18: Family

Carol and Daryl return home to what is for one of them an unwelcome surprise in the aftermath of the Wolves attack.

Sweet smut warning.

* * *

_**Family **_

"_When everything goes to hell, the people who stand by you without flinching-they are your family." –_Jim Butcher, Proven Guilty

* * *

"Where else was he going to go? Carl n' Rick brought Ron here, n' that girl too. Boy should be with his brother...all the family he got left." Daryl said quietly as he watched Carol pacing back and forth at the foot of their bed.

She looked wired, but lost, vulnerable, the opposite of how she'd been since the crisis with the Wolves had begun.

Daryl had watched this morning while she calmly took down at least three of the invaders from her position at the cellar window and then when the all clear was given, immediately head out to do triage, quickly and efficiently working with Rosita and Maggie taking care of the wounded and then deciding who could go into the houses prepared for prisoners and who needed further treatment.

Sam had shadowed the women all day, carrying supplies and running messages for them. Rick had found him asleep on the steps of the Clinic at the end of the day, waiting for Carol to come out after tending to her patient, the woman medic who had been held captive by the Wolves. After her dark pronouncement about the necessity of killing all of the prisoners, she had passed out again. Deanna planned to question her first in the morning and Michonne was spending the night at the Clinic guarding her.

Daryl knew that Carol's ambivalence about the boy would come to a head when the dust settled. He also knew that Rick's guilt over killing Jessie to save Carl meant that he'd feel a duty to both boys and want to bring them into the fold. For the constable, it wasn't open to debate.

Carol and Daryl returned to the house to find Enid, Ron, Sam and Carl all sitting around the dinner table, Judith in her high chair, entertaining them by giggling and tossing her Cheerios onto the floor while Rick pulled a pre-made casserole out of the oven.

Carol took one look at the domestic scene and stopped short, almost causing Daryl, who she was supporting on one side, to lose his already precarious balance. He grabbed onto the door frame and swore, drawing the eyes of all the kids and Rick, who gave his friend a censorious look.

"Hungry?" Rick asked, bringing the dish over to the table. He was wearing oven mitts, a loose fitting sweatshirt and jeans, his strong jaw softened by the graying stubble of two days beard. He looked tired but content, a father at the end of a long day of work taking care of his family.

Daryl's stomach growled, making a verbal reply unnecessary, and Carol helped him over to one of the open chairs at the table and then stepped back as soon as he was seated. She pulled at the bottom of her shirt, looking down at the dried blood and other more unpleasant substances staining it and then murmured something about needing to get cleaned up before she fled upstairs.

Sam got up and moved one chair down, leaving the one between him and Daryl empty. Daryl frowned at him, wondering if the kid was scared of him, and then surreptitiously sniffed his pits, wondering if he stunk, but didn't think he smelled any worse than usual. He saw the boy look towards the stairs and realized that the chair between them was being saved for _Carol..._

"Enid—you can stay in 'Chonne's room tonight. You boys alright to bunk with Carl?" Rick asked as they cleared the table after everyone was finished. Carol hadn't come back down and Sam had visibly wilted when Rick had told them to start eating without her.

"I could stay with Miss Carol." Sam volunteered hopefully, looking again at the stairs.

"Sorry, buddy, Daryl already beat you to it." Carl said with a sly grin, making Daryl grunt and throw him a narrow eyed stare while everyone but a disappointed Sam smiled.

"Bed time guys," Rick said in a no nonsense tone. "Carl, take your sister up and change her if she needs it."

"I can do that, Mr. Grimes." Enid volunteered, rising and moving to remove the baby from her high chair. She picked up the child and cradled her to her chest gently, smiling a bit when Judith reached up and pulled on her hair.

"You sure?" Rick asked, sounding a bit unsure of the girl. She'd been a capable enough worker and Carl seemed attached to her, but they didn't really know anything about her.

"I had a baby brother...before..." Enid said softly, her stoic face softening in sadness.

Carl and Rick exchanged a frowning look, but then Rick nodded that it was okay. Carl went with her as they headed up to take care of the little girl.

"Come on, squirt." Ron said, rising from his chair, "Carl's got _The Dark Knight_ and _Spiderman _you can read before bed." A weary awareness of his responsibility for his little brother showed in his tired eyes. Tomorrow they would bury their mother.

Sam looked at Daryl as if willing him to object, wanting to wait for Carol to come back down.

"You go on—all need some shut eye after today." Daryl said to Sam, nodding his head in agreement with the older boy.

After the kids were gone, Daryl sat alone at the table drinking a beer, his bad leg propped up on a second chair, while Rick busied himself washing the dishes, his back to the other man.

"I get it—you feel responsible." Daryl drawled, setting the bottle down on the table with a small clunk of glass on wood. "But you didn't think to ask me n' Carol if we _wanted_ to live with the fuckin' Brady Bunch?"

Rick didn't reply. He continued to wash, rinse and then place each plate and glass in the dish drainer, one after another, methodically, mechanically focused on the mundane task.

"Carol told me what you said to her." Daryl said, taking a long draw on his beer. "That day you left her."

The clink-clank of the silverware going into the plastic pocket of the drainer signaled the end of Rick's task. He put the crusty casserole dish in the soapy water to soak and then dried his hands on a dishtowel before turning to face Daryl.

"We both said a lot of things that day." Rick replied, resting his ass back on the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.

"About your kids." Daryl gestured at him with the bottle before raising it to his lips and draining the last of it. He rested the empty bottle on his chest, picking at the label, peeling the paper from it while he waited for Rick to say something.

Rick looked down and nodded, a brief look of shame and pain flashing over his face.

He remembered.

"She _can't _think I still feel that way." Rick finally said, raising his head to look at Daryl and then looking towards the stairs where Carol had gone. "After she and Ty saved Judith, _all_ of us; what we've all been through—."

"You don't know..." Daryl muttered, sitting up and putting the bottle on the table in front of him. He didn't want to betray Carol's confidence, but felt a surge of anger about how much she had sacrificed to bring Rick's daughter back to him—those girls' deaths weighed on her soul—he felt anger that Rick couldn't see how hard it was for her to be around the kids.

"She _knows_ I trust her—I don't want—does she really think I don't want her here?" Rick asked, growing upset.

"You never asked; how me n' her ended up out on that road that night back at the church; to see the Grady car go by." Daryl said slowly, tilting his head and looking over at Rick through his bangs.

Rick stared at him and then shook his head in confusion.

"She was leavin'. Had the car we found already runnin'. Walker hadn't slowed her down I'd've missed her." Daryl sighed and chewed on his lower lip.

"Leaving?" Rick asked, still not getting it, how much what he had done to her, how everything that she had gone through as a result of her exile had damaged her.

"_I'll _talk to her; see what she wants to do. Ain't no housing shortage. Maybe it's time we get our own place." Daryl shrugged, bracing his hands on the table top to help him stand, wishing he hadn't refused the crutches Carol had offered back at the Clinic. Wasn't like he'd broken or lost the leg—but it had been a good eight hours since he'd had a pain pill. The beer had just barely taken the edge off and now it _hurt_ like a son of a bitch.

Rick came swiftly to Daryl when he saw how wobbly his friend was. He stood by his side, but didn't try to touch him. Daryl caught himself, balancing with both hands gripping the back of the chair.

"You'd move out?" Rick asked, frowning at the possibility. He'd gotten used to having his closest friends—his _family_—around him, there as support. The idea of living in a house with three teenagers, a tween and a baby without Carol's steady presence or Daryl's built in bad cop personae was a daunting prospect.

"Said I'd see what she wants to do." Daryl said while taking a hopping step back, swaying unsteadily.

"Suppose you want some help up the stairs then." Rick said dryly, putting his arm under Daryl's, steadying him.

* * *

When they made it to the door of his and Carol's room it was closed, so Daryl knocked.

"What?" Carol asked in a tight voice.

"Climbed all the way up here—think you could sound a little sweeter." Daryl growled.

The door came open and a concerned but exasperated Carol looked at the two men like they were crazy. Her hair was a bed head mess and she wore her sleep clothes, a practically see-through white tank top and navy shorts. Her eyes were also swollen and red, as was the tip of her nose. She'd been crying.

"What is _wrong_ with you? You could've popped your stitches—perfectly good couch downstairs—" Carol chided in a low angry voice, pushing Rick back out of the way to take his place supporting Daryl.

"G'night." Rick mumbled just before the door shut in his face. He stood there listening for raised voices, but gave up after a minute or two and ambled down the hall to his room.

Carol helped Daryl over to the bed and made him sit down so she could examine him.

"I would've come downstairs to check on you." Carol said, all business, feeling his forehead for a fever as a sign of infection and then reaching for his belt buckle to take off his pants and look at his wounded leg.

Daryl captured her hands in his to stop her.

"Hey now—I ain't that easy—buy me a drink first." he kidded, leaning in for a kiss.

"Smells like you already had one." Carol leaned back with a nose wrinkling grimace.

"One beer—made me feel less like asking Rick to do a Hershel on my leg." Daryl said wryly.

"You're in that much pain?" Carol asked, "Why didn't you say something sooner?" She pulled her hands from his and went to the low dresser across the room, grabbing her triage back pack off of the top of it and digging through it. She took out a blister pack of pills and a water bottle and returned to the bed.

"We sorta had a busy day." Daryl understated wryly, looking at the pills and water but not taking them. His leg was on fucking fire, but still he hesitated.

"You'll heal faster if your body isn't fighting the pain too." Carol said, knowing his reluctance to use heavy duty meds was because of what he'd seen drugs do to his brother. "We need you back at full strength as soon as possible." she reasoned and then added in a gentler tone, _"It'll be okay."_

Daryl sighed and accepted the pills and water, downing them quickly.

"Now relax and take off your pants." Carol ordered.

"You can have one _or _the other—not both." Daryl grinned at her, his hands going to his belt.

"I _need_ to check the stitches." Carol said forcefully, raising both eyebrows at him and pursing her lips. She knelt in front of him, helping him take off first his knives and then his pants.

Since he'd been sequestered in the Armory basement during the battle and most of the clean-up operations, his clothes weren't corrupted with the same gore as hers and the others had been, for which Carol was grateful. She knew he was frustrated that his injury had kept him out of it, but for her it had been one less thing to worry about today.

While she unwrapped the dressing, Daryl continued to undress, removing his vest and pulling his shirt off over his head and then settled back to enjoy the view. He had the perfect vantage point above to look down the front of the slightly oversize tank top she wore. As she worked he started to feel the pills kick in, giving him a zinging buzz of relief from the pain. They also loosened his tongue.

"I like your boobs." Daryl drawled with satisfaction. _"They's pretty."_

"I'm going to leave the dressing off—let it get some air overnight." Carol told him, ignoring the compliment. She was pleased there was no sign of infection and all of the stitches seemed intact, but there was still some swelling and colorful bruising all around the injury site.

"You gonna take _your_ dressin's off?" Daryl said leadingly, smiling lazily and leaning back on his elbows as she stood and looked down at him.

"You're injured; you need to rest." Carol told him in firm denial, tempted none-the-less by his long lean form draped across the bed, casually seductive, but suppressing a smile because he looked just a tad goofy in his loose fitting old man boxers. She was used to him in briefs, but these days you took what you could get.

"You my nurse?" Daryl asked, squinting up at her.

Carol considered the question and then slowly nodded yes with a little side-eye, knowing he was up to something.

"This bum leg—couldn't take a shower—how 'bout a sponge bath, nursie?" and he gave her a little boy pout. She seldom saw this mischievous side of him and was torn between taking advantage of it and going downstairs to take the couch for herself and letting him sleep it off.

"What's my name?" she asked, checking to see how out of it he really was.

"Nurse...Carol. _My_ Carol." Daryl responded with a sly smile, sitting up and reaching out his right hand to her. _"Com'ere."_

"Thought you wanted a sponge bath..." Carol said, putting her hands on her hips and pursing her lips at him.

"Thinkin' a _tongue_ bath'd be nicer..." Daryl purred wickedly, winking and thrusting his chin forward with a grin. He beckoned her forward again with a small motion of his hand.

Carol shook her head and chuckled, giving in, the desire to be close to him winning out over any worry about aggravating his leg injury.

Taking his hands Carol let him pull her in so that she stood between his open legs, his thighs to either side of hers. He leaned forward and rested his head against her warm belly, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"_Smell so damn good."_ he murmured, making a slight snuffling noise as he inhaled deeply and then inched up her tank so his lips were pressed to the soft flesh, nuzzling and kissing.

Carol's hands slid from his shoulders to his back, the rough slick texture of his scars and his heat comfortingly, achingly familiar. When he pushed the shirt up over her breasts and used his tongue to map them, settling in to suckle lustily at one tight hot nipple, she moaned and lifted her hands to burrow under the long hair at his nape, holding his head to her.

"_Taste like strawberries..."_ he grunted as he lifted his mouth from her only to latch on to the other side. He pushed under the waist of her shorts and cupped her ass with both hands before stripping them down her legs.

She stepped out of them and then felt his hands on her again, the left at the small of her back and right palming her mound before sliding two fingers up and into her wet heat.

"_Oh God."_ Carol gave a little cry, her knees going weak as his fingers fluttered over her light and fast until she was writhing in pleasure. She felt the rumble of his low laugh against her breast and then he lifted her off her feet to straddle his lap. As she settled down onto him she realized that he still had on his underwear, his cock straining against the thin cotton.

"Wait—_Daryl!_" Carol protested, pushing against his chest, but he just laughed again and pulled her against him, breast to chest and then sighed happily, smiling down at her.

"_Just kiss me, Chero-kee."_ Daryl said lightly, enjoying the rhyme, lowering his mouth to hers, a luscious long wet meeting of lips and tongues. His hands cupped her face as he bumped his hips up, making her whimper with need.

Raising up by planting her knees on the bed on either side of his hips, Carol reached and pushed under the white cloth, drawing his strong silken length out, her hand closing firmly around it and then sinking back down onto him with a sigh.

"_Shit..."_ Daryl groaned, grabbing her upper arms and then falling back onto the bed, bringing her with him. He started to roll to the side, but she stopped him with a hand to his chest.

"Your leg—" she cautioned, but he shook his head from side to side.

"_Nothin' hurts..."_ Daryl assured her, but then looked up at her with a lazy grin, those blue eyes dark, and pupils wide. His hands moved from her arms to her shoulders in a slow caress, the right closing around her neck, feeling her rapid pulse while the left traced the curve of her cheek.

Carol closed her eyes and leaned into the gentle touch, rubbing against his work roughened fingers. His thumb drifted to the seam between her lips and she opened for him to push inside, sucking down hard, swirling her tongue around it.

Bracing her hands on his chest, she pushed back on him with her hips, sheathing his full length, taking him deep just as she did the same to his thumb, holding it there with her teeth lightly biting down just behind the knuckle.

"_Fuuuck..."_ Daryl muttered, long and low, his left hand moving to cup her right breast, kneading the soft weight of it reflexively, pinching the stiff nipple and then sliding down her abdomen and through the soft thatch of curls to find the center of her arousal, as erect and hard as the nipple had been.

He took a bit of time to match his finger's strokes to her rhythm moving on him, muttering something unintelligible, and then grunted in satisfaction when she released his thumb from her mouth so she could cry out in pleasure.

"_Need you closer."_ he begged, using his wet thumb on her breast to rub against the cherry red center and she adjusted her arm position, leaning forward so that when he raised his head, he could lick and suckle there, supporting her above him with his big hand firmly clasping its soft weight.

All of the worry and fear of the last few days was pushed down, sublimated to this, the need to reassure each other that they were alive; safe and alive and together. They lost themselves in each other, for those brief moments of total communion forgetting everything else.

Carol cried out loudly in an agony of joy, the physical and emotional release, the opportunity to show Daryl how much she loved him almost too much. As she floated back down from the intensity of her orgasm, Daryl's arms firmly around her, her face cradled against his neck, she became aware of a faint pounding noise and someone out in the hall urgently calling her name.

"_What th'hell?"_ Daryl mumbled from underneath her.

"_Miss Carol!"_ The bedroom door slammed open and there stood Sam, his small knife drawn, a look of panic on his face.

Daryl sat up, keeping Carol held against him, dragging the quilt up around their still joined lower bodies.

"_Sam—this ain't none a'—" _Daryl began, but the boy came closer, afraid, but determined.

"You were _hurting_ her! I heard!" Sam yelled fiercely, the tremor in his voice and tears in his eyes making Daryl's throat go tight. His eyes met Carol's, full of sorrow, as she leaned back and then slid off of him, keeping the covering around her as he tucked himself back inside his boxers, wincing a little.

"He wasn't hurting me, Sam." Carol said evenly, standing and walking over to him, putting her free hand over his, lowering the knife and taking it from him.

Rick suddenly appeared at the door, looking only half awake, his white t-shirt and baby blue boxers wrinkled from sleep.

"Everything okay in here?" Rick asked, looking at the three upset people in the room.

"I went to the bathroom..." Sam said, looking up at Rick, his brows drawn together in confusion. "...and I was comin' back to Carl's room an' I heard Miss Carol _screamin'._.." he looked over at Carol, "...like my mom used to when..." and then he began to cry in earnest and flung himself at Carol, gripping her tightly around the waist and sobbing.

Carol stood stiffly, neither pushing away nor embracing the boy.

Rick saw the struggle for control on her face, but she wouldn't look at him either, she just focused on some spot on the floor. Daryl met Rick's questioning eyes and he shook his head.

"Sam—son—you know Daryl would never hurt Carol, right?" Rick finally said when the boy started to calm down.

"Then why was she screaming?" the boy asked, still clinging to Carol, but he looked up at Rick.

"Coz I was...I was _ticklin'_ her." Daryl said after clearing his throat, a blush staining his cheeks. "Ain't you never been deviled till you squealed?"

Sam thought about it for a bit and then finally nodded, still looking somewhat skeptical.

Rick put his hand on the boy's back until he released Carol, who then stepped back.

"You want me to stay to make sure he don't hurt you?" Sam asked solemnly, looking up at Carol.

"Daryl loves me, Sam, he won't hurt me—I promise." Carol said, handing him back his knife.

"Hey buddy?" Daryl said, drawing Sam's eyes to him. "Thanks for coming to save her—that was a brave thing you did."

Sam nodded, standing taller as Rick started to usher him back to Carl's room. Then Sam stopped and looked back at Carol again.

"But do you love _him_?" the boy said, his worried eyes shifting quickly to Daryl, who made a little surprised noise at the question, wondering what his parents had told him about their problems. Had Sam's asshole father blamed his abuse on a lack of love from his wife?

"With all of my heart." Carol said without hesitation, her voice warm and sincere.

Rick's breath caught at the raw look of love on Daryl's face as he heard her answer to the boy.

Sam gave a sigh of relief and nodded, saying his goodnights and letting Rick take him back to bed.

As soon as the door was shut Carol searched for and found her shorts and pulled them on, dropping the quilt, and then walked over to the bedroom door and locked it, resting her forehead against its cool surface.

"You okay?" Daryl asked carefully. What had just happened had been embarrassing, but he thought they'd handled it fairly well. The way she'd shut down was much more than just embarrassment though.

"I won't _do_ this, Daryl. I _can't._" Carol said. She ran her hand through her hair in agitation, unknowingly making it stand up on end in stiff Medusa–like tendrils.

"Can't do _what_?" Daryl asked, gnawing on his lower lip, unsure, "Me or the kid?"

Carol turned towards him. Seeing the look of uncertainty and fear in his eyes, she moved swiftly to the bed and sat next to him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He breathed her in, cradling the soft curls at the back of her head in his right hand and wrapping his other arm around her just as tightly.

"He's a good kid—was just tryin' to protect you." Daryl finally said when he felt some of the tension leave her. She dropped her arms from his sides and looked up at him.

"Why is he staying _here_?" Carol asked, standing again, too antsy to sit, "There have to be other people in this place they've known longer—since this started—friends of their parents to take them in."

"Where else was he going to go? Carl n' Rick brought Ron here, n' that girl too. Boy should be with his brother...he's all the family he got left." Daryl said quietly as he watched Carol pacing back and forth at the foot of their bed. She looked wired, but lost, vulnerable, the opposite of how she'd been since the crisis with the Wolves had begun.

"I already have all the family I need." Carol said, infusing her words with a decisive firm coldness. "If Rick and Michonne want to take in strays, that's their business, but I'm done."

Daryl stared at her thoughtfully, understanding completely, knowing what had happened with the girls, even with Beth and Noah had shut down her ability to accept another child into her heart.

"I'll talk to Maggie tomorrow—see what other houses they got open—get our own place or maybe shuffle some people around to share." Daryl said, nodding, but then held up a finger in warning, "_Ain't_ livin' with the Mullet though, tell you that right now."

"Daryl?" Carol stopped in front of him, her mouth slightly open in surprise that he wasn't going to argue with her about this; tell her she was running away from her problems; that she needed to resolve her feelings or that it was unacceptable to refuse the boy's obvious affection for her.

"Come to bed." Daryl said, holding out his hands, "Been a long day n' tomorrow is gonna be another one."

Carol helped him stand so she could replace the quilt and then turn down it and the sheets. When they got settled under the covers she laid her head on his chest and he rested his cheek on the crown of her head.

As he reached over to turn off the bedside lamp his hand knocked against the small cardboard box resting on the surface of the night stand and the dozen or so unopened square foil packets slithered out and fell to the floor in an almost silent rain.

* * *

_No flinching, Daryl..._

Thanks for reading! Almost at 100 followers for this story! Thank you all so much! And I appreciate every favorite, follow and review more than I can say;-)


	19. Chapter 19: Pride

Deanna sizes up the woman found amongst the Wolves; Sam gets his first shooting lesson from Daryl; and Carol engages in a contest of wills.

* * *

_**Pride**_

_It's made up of lonely moments  
There was always a moment there when I knew  
You always gave installments  
Always knew you concentrated and grew._

_And I believe in reinvention_  
_Do you believe that life is holding the clue?_  
_Take away all the lonely moments_  
_Give me full communication with you._

_Your smile shines a little light, alright_  
_Don't hide, shine a little light_  
_Give up on your pride._

-"Pride," by Syntax

* * *

"And you were held by these...men...for how long?" Deanna asked the young woman sitting in the chair before her, watching her carefully.

"I'm not sure—what month _is_ it?" Dr. Erin Yang asked, staring steadily back at the ASZ leader, her impatience showing in her tone and the tapping of her right toe.

"It's October. October twentieth." Deanna replied.

"Oh goodie, I didn't miss Halloween then." the doctor said with a sarcastic grin. "Though I think the monsters came a bit early for the party."

"Indeed." Deanna smiled back wryly, liking the woman's spirit.

"It was last spring—May—when they came and destroyed my camp and slaughtered everyone I knew." Erin said, quickly sobering the other woman, "That's only six months..._huh_...it felt like a whole lot more..." her eyes flicked over to Maggie who was sitting quietly in the corner, a sympathetic expression on her face.

"And yet you were spared." Deanna said contemplatively.

"I was in the middle of doing an amputation when they overwhelmed us." Yang recounted. "They decided having a doctor along for the ride would be a good idea."

"They killed everyone but you?" Maggie asked softly, with sympathy.

"Eventually." the doctor replied, looking away, out the window, her expression enigmatic.

"How many did _you_ lose?" Erin asked, looking directly at Maggie now.

"Yesterday?" Maggie asked, raising an eyebrow, her meaning clear—yesterday was just one terrible day among many.

"Yeah—right—we've all lost a lot of people since this thing started." Erin gave her a little huff of commiseration.

"So you have no one to go back to?" Deanna asked. When Erin shook her head no, Deanna exchanged a look with her assistant.

"I know you have to be wary of me—traveling with the likes of them—but I _can_ help you." Erin said, leaning forward, drawing their focus back to her.

"You don't believe we should spare any of the men we captured." Maggie said quickly before Deanna could speak.

"They are not men." the doctor said. Her hand rose involuntarily to the W that had been carved into her forehead. Her eyes lost focus, and her hand shook.

"Dr. Yang?" Deanna asked after

Erin lowered her hand quickly to her lap and took a deep breath.

"They're worse than the dead. The dead have no conscience, no ability to distinguish right from wrong. All they have is hunger. Like the animal—like real wolves. But these?" the young woman closed her eyes.

"None of them have any useful skills? Nothing worth trying to reform them—" Deanna asked.

"None of them." the doctor responded and then opened her eyes into Deanna's. "Every single one of them is a rapist. Each of them a murderer. Most are sadistic and get off on torturing and mutilating their victims. Causing degradation, pain and death is their entertainment."

"How many people have _you_ killed?" Maggie asked.

Deanna looked at her sharply.

Yang tilted her head and then smiled slightly and nodded at the appropriateness of the question.

"Three. Since this all started. One because she asked me to, one because he was trying to kill me and the last because he was dying ugly and slow and back then I still had enough mercy in me to put animals who walked upright down."

"How many walkers?" Maggie asked.

"Walkers? You mean the dead? Too many to count." Erin replied. "There's an unending supply."

This time it was Maggie who nodded in agreement. She then looked to Deanna and they had a silent conversation culminating in Maggie rising and leaving the room.

"Would you be willing to make us a list of them? The Wolves? And their crimes?" Deanna asked.

"Of course." Erin replied quickly, but with a little grimace at the thought of reliving the atrocities she'd been witness to in the last half of a year.

Maggie came back into the room with a legal pad and a few pens. She sat at the table in the corner and Deanna motioned for the doctor to join her.

"So we're done here? No more questions?" Erin asked before she rose.

"I'm prepared to admit you to the ASZ on a trial basis. After you're done here, Maggie will take you to the Clinic to see patients, under supervision, if you are willing." Deanna said.

"And if I'm not?" Erin asked, curious. She'd been able to survive this long because of her medical skills; refusing to practice them would've meant exile or death in the other communities she'd lived in previously. She was only alive because she'd been useful.

"Then we'd find you other work to do. Everyone here contributes." Deanna said, narrowing her eyes. "But you don't seem to me to be the kind of person who would _break_ her Hippocratic Oath, Dr. Yang."

Both women rose and Erin made her way to where Maggie was preparing to take down the list while Deanna turned off the video recorder and shifted it to point at the table to record their session.

"What will you do with them? The Wolves?" Erin asked as she pulled out a chair to sit down at the table, pausing to rest her hands on the back of it.

"That's for the Council to decide." Deanna told her, but looked troubled. She knew this was one of the most important decisions the community they were trying to build here would face. Justice was as slippery as an eel in this new world order.

Morgan's plan seemed to have succeeded, but had left them with over two dozen captives. Imprisoning people over long periods just wasn't practical. They would use up valuable resources that the rest of the population would need in the coming winter.

Banishment wasn't an option—they would just rejoin those who had escaped and become a threat again. A just society would try them for their crimes, but was the word of one witness enough to condemn those men to death?

* * *

"How come Ron gets a bigger gun?" Sam asked, scowling at his brother.

"Because I _am _bigger numb nuts." Ron snarked back, holding up the Luger sideways, pointing at the target and closing one eye, pretending to fire as if he was a bad ass in _Grand Theft Auto_.

"Don't gimme none a that gangsta shit." Carl admonished, putting his hand over Ron's on the gun and taking it away from him, a sad smile passing over his face at a memory from a farm in Georgia of another nice kid who had lost his family, trying to learn to protect the people he had left; and of a big man with a heart of gold who gave his life so Carol could survive to save them all.

"All right then; listen up." Rick called out. "Now that you've shown you can break your weapons down and put them back together in the required time, you're ready for the next part of your training."

They had spent the last three hours learning the basics of gun maintenance and safety and the young people were antsy to start actually shooting at something.

Ron and Sam's mother had refused to allow them to learn, confident that the walls and the men tasked with protecting them were enough; that her children should be sheltered from the harsh realities of the outside world.

Her death was why they were learning now, the afternoon following her funeral.

"I don't know if I can do this." Sam said quietly to the man sitting behind him, looking at the small pistol he held with trepidation.

"Carl was younger n' you when he started." Daryl assured him, "Just takes payin' attention n' practice." He had two pair of noise cancelling head phones looped over his forearm and had several spare clips for the small gun stashed in his pants pockets.

As he'd promised, he was here to teach the boy. His leg injury meant he couldn't do much else towards the repair or cleanup efforts so it gave him something to do to feel useful.

"Thank you Mr. Daryl." the boy said shyly, still looking down at the hand gun. "For not being mad at me about last night."

"You thought she was getting' hurt. You wanted to help her. I get that." Daryl said treating the apology with the solemnity it deserved. Inwardly he was proud of the kid for having the balls to come to Carol's rescue.

"If I had a knife or a gun I could've _saved _my mom." Sam said, sad and frustrated. "From _all _the bad things."

"Sometimes no matter what you do, kid, people are gonna die." Daryl said, looking over at Carl who was conferring with his father. "Moms too."

"_Your _mom?" Sam asked, his brow crinkling in sympathy.

"Died a long time ago. Before all this." Daryl told him, looking off towards the Clinic building, wondering how Carol was doing today. She'd been gone already when he woke up, leaving him another pain pill and a glass of water with a note that said she had to be at work early and would see him at the funerals. There she'd been silent, letting Sam hold her hand when the tearful boy had grabbed it, but leaving as soon as the service was over to go back to the Clinic.

"Was she sick?" Sam asked. "My friend Violet's mom from second grade had the cancer and she died."

"No." Daryl said gruffly.

"Did your dad hit her too?" Sam asked next, making Daryl's head snap around.

"_What?"_

"I saw...on your back last night...you're like me...and Ron." Sam said, those big unblinking owl eyes full of shared pain and understanding. He shuffled close to Daryl and lifted his Spiderman t-shirt in the back and Daryl _saw._

They were the same.

His jaw tightened, damning Pete to the lowest level of hell and feeling light headed with the knowledge that if Rick hadn't already taken care of him, Daryl would have.

"Yeah. He did." Daryl said succinctly. "But she _died _in a fire; our house burned down."

Sam nodded and then reached out and put his hand on Daryl's shoulder. A year ago Daryl would've shrugged off the comforting gesture, but now he took it as it was intended: pain shared is pain lessened.

"Why does Miss Carol pretend she doesn't like me?" Sam asked, sounding both sad and curious.

Daryl looked at the child, startled by his perception.

"Why do you think?" Daryl asked.

Sam's frown deepened and he chewed on his lower lip, thinking.

Daryl gave a little grunt of recognition, realizing he was doing the same thing.

"She was a mom." the boy finally said.

"You think?" Daryl prodded, wondering if he'd been talking to Carl about everyone in their group.

"Well, she makes really good cookies n' she does stuff to take care of people—make sure that they're... they're _safe _and stuff. That's what mom's are supposed to do."

"Uh huh." Daryl nodded.

"But I think her kids died. Like maybe walkers got them. Out there." he looked towards the wall with a little shiver, "And that makes her sad...and angry too."

"Carl tell you that?" Daryl asked, studying the boy's face.

"No." Sam shook his head from side to side vigorously. "So I was right? She had kids?"

Daryl stared at the boy. He wanted to be there for Carol; to support her decisions, but closing herself off like she was? Shutting down her emotions by lying to herself about caring for the boy? That was going to blow up in all of their faces sooner or later.

"Girls." Daryl finally said. "Three girls."

"And they all died?" Sam asked softly.

Daryl nodded.

"Then she _should_ be sad." Sam nodded, chewing on his lip again and then giving Daryl's shoulder a squeeze. "It's good she has you to love her."

"So how is the training going?" Deanna asked, striding up to stand next to Daryl's chair.

"Hello Mizz Deanna." Sam said politely as he let his hand fall from Daryl's shoulder and took a step back.

"Ma'am." Daryl said gruffly, looking down at the ground and blinking rapidly. _Damn kid..._

"Maggie took Dr. Yang to the Clinic to start seeing patients now—I'd like you to go by there so she can take a look at your leg, Daryl." Deanna told him, gesturing to his injury.

"Carol did my leg up fine." Daryl said defensively, glaring up at her. This new woman rolling in here and pushing Carol out of the way didn't sit right with him.

"Carol stepped up and did an amazing job—I'm not discounting that." Deanna soothed, "But this woman is a doctor, Daryl, or at least she claims to be and we need to test that."

"So you want me to be some kinda guinea hen?" Daryl said, squinting.

"_Pig."_ Sam piped up. "Guinea _pig_. I used to have one."

Deanna tried to contain her amusement, surprised to see that Sam felt comfortable enough around Daryl to correct him. Finding a permanent placement for the orphaned boy and his brother was another task she had to deal with, but for now it seemed that he was fine where he was.

"Soon as I'm done here then." Daryl grumbled good naturedly, and nodded.

Rick whistled loudly to catch everyone's attention.

"All right! Since today our learners are all first timers, with the exception of Enid," he said with a nod to the self-possessed girl, "... we're going to do this one at a time... so let's get in line."

Daryl handed one set of the headphones to Sam, gesturing for him to take them and head over to Rick.

While Rick was giving the kids some final instructions Deanna came closer to Daryl's chair.

"Sam seems quite attached to you and Carol," the ASZ leader said quietly, following the boy's progress across the gun range. "The boy needs stability right now more than anything. I'd consider it a personal favor if you could wait on your new housing request a bit longer, until things calm down a bit more, after this business with the Wolves is over."

Daryl sighed and nodded, knowing it would do no good to argue with her.

Maggie must've passed along the note he'd given her at the funeral services, asking permission to move into one of the vacant homes. He stared at Sam, wondering what he'd say to Carol. The truth, he supposed, that Deanna had said no.

And then get ready for the fallout.

* * *

"I like her." Erin Yang said as she followed Carol around the small Clinic on her tour.

"Maggie?" Carol asked over her shoulder as she opened the locked drug cabinet to show the doctor their supplies or lack thereof.

"Yes—very capable for one so young—she's married to Glenn, right?"

"That's right." Carol said.

"You were all part of the large group that came in most recently—with the constables and the baby?" Erin asked, her tone deliberately light and curious.

"You seem well informed for someone who just arrived yourself." Carol replied a bit tartly, turning to face the other woman and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Olivia brought my breakfast this morning." Erin said, a dimple appearing in her cheek. She'd played her cards pretty close to the vest about how much she knew about this place when talking to Deanna earlier.

The woman who ran the pantry had been in the mood for conversation, mostly gossip about the people here in the Zone, and had stayed to chat while Erin ate. Michonne had looked on with disapproval, finally interrupting when the talk strayed into areas beyond the purely personal.

"So you've already tapped into our own little social network." Carol said dryly.

"Oh yes!" Erin said, smiling. "Olivia wanted to make sure I was an actual _doctor_ doctor, and not just an academic doctor; seems everyone got excited when Felicia told the recruiters her partner was a doctor, but it turned out she held a Ph.D. in psychology."

Carol nodded. The women that Daryl and Aaron had brought in several weeks before had been worried that if they didn't have skills needed by the community that they would be turned away, so Felicia had lied to the men about Claire's real pre-Turn profession. The truth came out after Deanna had interviewed them separately.

The lie hadn't been needed. Finding a pregnant woman well into her sixth month living on the road was reason enough to grant them entrance into the Zone. A psychologist was a bonus they hadn't had the time to make much use of yet.

"My credentials seemed to pass muster." the doctor said, looking Carol up and down. The gray-haired woman's piercing blue eyes and the stubborn set of her chin were a marked contrast to her bland pastel blouse and tan slacks.

"So what's the word on _me_ then?" Carol asked, the familiar feeling of being scrutinized and found wanting passing over her.

"Friendly, good cook, a hard worker and..." Erin paused thoughtfully.

"And?" Carol asked, raising an eyebrow.

"And the handsome biker with the bow—the one with the lacerated calf?" Erin said, a small smile playing at her lips. "Dixon, right?"

Carol's face remained impassive. If the woman was fishing for some overt statement of her relationship with Daryl she didn't get one.

"I'm told you did an impressive job sewing him up the other day." Yang complimented with a one shoulder shrug, "But you're not a doctor?"

"No, I'm not." Carol replied crisply.

"Nurse then? Physician's Assistant?" Erin speculated. "Before?"

Carol nodded no to both.

"I don't have a degree. I've learned as I've gone along." Carol said evenly. "Maggie's father was our only medical professional at first—a veterinarian—he taught both of us before he was killed." She'd also spent many hours in the remnants of the Woodbury library they'd brought to the Prison studying both herbal remedies and traditional medical techniques, assisting Hershel and Dr. S when needed.

"Well, you have a natural talent for it then." Erin said, narrowing her eyes.

"I do what I can."Carol said, her eyes rising to the single letter etched onto the small woman's forehead. The scars had been cut deeply, cruelly so, healing in livid magenta. Everyone these days had their scars, someplace...

"I hear there's an opening for a physician here in Alexandria." Erin said, looking around the room, running her hand over the examining table beside her, "Since the constable _shot_ the previous one." Her sharp eyes watched for a reaction from Carol.

"Rick had his reasons." Daryl said from behind the doctor, standing in the doorway, leaning heavily on his crutches, his crossbow on his back.

Surprised, Erin swung around to look at him and then gave him the same thorough once over as she'd done to Carol earlier. A few beats later she met his eyes and smiled.

"Mr. Dixon!" Erin said pleasantly.

Daryl came through the door and into the room, acknowledging Carol with a quick bob of his head. He sensed a certain low level hostility between the women, and moved to place himself between Carol and the doctor, facing the latter.

"They told me ya wanted to look at my leg." Daryl drawled, laying his south Georgia on thick. "Don' know as to why though." he briefly glanced back over his shoulder at Carol and then back at Yang. "Doin' _fine_."

"I mean no insult to your... _friend's _work," the doctor said, and Daryl frowned at the condescension in her tone. "...but with a deep laceration there's always a risk of infection, blood poisoning, sepsis, tetanus—"

"He's had a round of antibiotics and a tetanus booster," Carol interrupted, "The wound site is—"

"I'd like to check it for myself—_if_ you don't mind?" Yang interrupted back, all business. This was her profession, her expertise, her authority.

The women stared at one another, two ultimate survivors feeling one another out, testing the other's resolve.

Daryl took a step back, moving into Carol's space, making his preference clear.

After a few seconds, Carol put her hand on his shoulder and he looked back at her, making sure _she_ was sure and then let her relieve him of the bow so he could crutch forward and sit down on the exam table to allow the doctor to examine him.

Carol chewed on her lower lip, shaking her head at how she'd been letting her pride get in the way of Daryl's best interests.

Erin was fascinated by their silent communication, wondering if they knew how rare that kind of connection was, how lucky they were to have found it. Hoping this place would last long enough for them to enjoy it...

And maybe give _her _another chance to reinvent herself...again.

* * *

Thank you for continuing to read and comment on this story. I really appreciate the encouragement and thoughtful critiques. Carol &amp; Daryl very dear to me &amp; I hope I am doing them and their unique dynamic justice.


	20. Chapter 20: The Eighteenth Man

The problem of what to do with the eighteen prisoners is debated in Council; Carol and Daryl try to deal with Deanna's refusal to change their living arrangements, and a vital decision about the Wolves is made.

* * *

_**The Eighteenth Man**_

"I don't agree." Morgan said, crossing his arms in front of him and leaning back in his chair at the other end of the table from Deanna.

"Big surprise." Rick said with disgust. He was beside the ASZ leader, at her right hand.

"What alternatives do we have?" Deanna asked from the head of the table. "That's what we're here to discuss."

"You banished Davidson once before..." Aaron said from his perch leaning against the wall, all of the chairs already taken when he'd arrived, late, and then added wryly, _"Didn't take."_

"And keeping eighteen angry men locked up long term isn't an option. It's a drain on our resources and keeps them within striking distance. It's a recipe for disaster." Michonne said from her seat next to Rick.

"We've been through this before—how many times?" Carol asked, looking to Rick, then Maggie and Glenn, seated across the table from her next to Michonne, and to Daryl, sitting next to her, the core group who had been together since the Farm.

"_This_ time we don't have the option of just taking them eight miles out or giving them a week's worth of supplies and a car and sending them on their way" Carol said, becoming more emotional as she continued. "_This _time they are _not_ someone with just the _potential_ to do harm! This time we know exactly what they are capable of. Ask Sasha, ask Tobin's sister, ask those boys who buried their mother yesterday. They came in here to kill us all—or worse—we all just watched Yang's testimony."

Everyone shifted uneasily. The account Erin had given of what she had witnessed during her time with the Wolves had been horrific. The depravity and violence, the disregard for anything resembling basic humanity had been sickening. What Glenn, Rick and Daryl had seen at Terminus when they'd been taken and lined up at that trough for butchering came closest to it, but Yang had lived among those kinds of people for half a year. It was remarkable she had come through it with her sanity intact.

"You still need to talk to them." Morgan insisted. "They deserve the chance to speak for themselves."

After hearing Yang's story, Deanna had started to reconsider her traditional policy of interviewing all new arrivals. She'd called this emergency Council meeting to get some input on how to proceed.

"You a lawyer before?" Daryl scowled at Jones, "Think we should Mirandize 'em and give 'em all a Public Defender?" he grunted, "Probably all just take the Fifth..."

"Wouldn't you want a chance to defend yourself? Explain your actions? If it was _you_ captured by someone?" Morgan asked Daryl.

Daryl bristled, remembering how it had felt to be paraded out in front of the jeering crowd in the arena at Woodbury, accused of terrorism when all he had been doing was trying to rescue his friends.

"Or if you were caught doing something that _looked _wrong?" Maggie added, her eyes moving to Carol and back to Daryl meaningfully.

Daryl's eyes narrowed dangerously at her. He felt Carol's hand gently touch the back of his, resting on his thigh, and brought his thumb up and over her fingers to keep it there.

"Ain't none of us lily white. We've all done something, but _this? This_ is war. They are war _criminals_." Abraham said, pointing at the TV screen where they'd seen Erin's testimony. "Last I heard they declared martial law in this country." and then he looked around the room for agreement.

"Is this still the United States? Do we still operate under the Constitution and the rule of law if there is no central government?" Deanna asked, her hands steepled in front of her on the table. "It's _our_ task to decide what the rules are now, Abraham. Do we run this as a criminal court? A military tribunal? We're here to hear everyone's opinions before we make a decision."

"Look, you can play _Twelve Angry Men_ all you want, but the bottom line is we have to do what's best for this community." Rick said, his head dipping toward his shoulder, his right hand gesturing to Deanna. "You already decided that meant Alexander Davidson had to go. He was told that if he ever came back he would be put to death. If we back off on that decision, everything starts to fall apart. People need to know who is in _charge_ here."

"And just who is that, Rick?" Morgan asked, leaning forward and pinning Rick with his gaze. "Already saw you and her conduct one public execution since I got here." His eyes shifted to Deanna. "Didn't see anyone read him his rights before you had your man put a bullet in his brain."

"Maybe I should've just waited until _after_ he killed my kids—no wait—that's _you_." Rick said, quiet and ugly, his face flushed.

"_Rick!"_ Michonne gasped. Rick had told her Morgan's story, how he'd been unable to kill his wife, how her walker had killed their son. She knew what a truly terrible thing that was to lay at his feet. It had driven him insane for a time...just like Rick had been after he'd lost his own wife.

Morgan's faced looked carved from ebony; cold and silently seething, holding onto his control with sheer will.

Carol stared at Rick, sick with the recognition that the man who had left her alone in that dead town, the side of him that she had hoped he'd left behind; the frighteningly self-righteous would-be leader was still there, simmering below the surface.

Daryl's hand tightened on hers and she looked over at him, his face equally disappointed and concerned. The rest of the table had similar expressions of unease and distaste, unsure of what to do or say to get the derailed discussion back on track.

"I think we all need a break, we've been at this for hours." Deanna said evenly, breaking the tension. "We'll reconvene in an hour." Then in a much firmer tone she added, "Rick, Michonne? If you could stay, I have some questions about setting up new patrol rotations."

Morgan was the first out of his chair, leaving the room without a backward glance.

Carol stood, intending to go after him, but Abraham was already up and heading for the door.

"I got this." Abe said, his features somehow both grim and sympathetic. At Carol, Maggie and Glenn's questioning look he added softly, "I _lived_ this." and headed out after Morgan.

"He had kids?" Daryl asked Glenn and Maggie in recognition that they had spent more time with Abe's group before Grady.

"I guess—he never said." Maggie told them, wondering how many others around her tried to just bury their past lives and go on living on top of the rubble.

"Beth asked me once—how come we got names for widows and orphans, but there's no name for someone who lost their kids..." Michonne said, her voice steady and warm but blinking back tears, surprising them all.

Rick looked at her. Like Carl and Judith, Beth had been everyone's child; his eyes went next to Carol and Deanna, whose children he'd also seen buried, and then he lowered his head.

* * *

"Quiet down there—kids all watching a movie?" Carol asked, putting down the book she'd been reading when Daryl came into their room. She was sitting up in bed, propped up by a couple of pillows, a pair of readers perched at the end of her nose. The nightstand lamp was on, giving her a little light to read by, but it was after seven o'clock and almost full dark outside so the rest of the room was in shadow.

"Rick let 'em go over to the boys' house to get some game they left over there that they just _had_ to have and remember? Enid's helping deliver the casseroles tonight." Daryl said, leaning his crutches up against the wall by the door and then placing his crossbow next to Carol's sniper rifle on top of the dresser.

"Oh right." Carol said absently. The girl had volunteered to take on the duty when Carol had been assigned to the Clinic. It was only today that the regular routine of deliveries had started up again.

"Your head feelin' any better?" Daryl asked solicitously, limping over to the bed and sitting down on the side, facing her. After the marathon Council meeting today she'd gotten the flashes and tunnel vision that signaled the onset of a migraine.

"I'm fine Daryl." Carol told him, lifting her book to resume reading, but he could see that pinched vertical line between her brows was more pronounced and she was squinting.

"Shouldn't really be readin' without a good light; s'hard on your eyes." Daryl told her bluntly.

"And thank _you_, Dr. Dixon." She said crossly, reaching over and pulling the small lamp closer to her on the nightstand, in the process knocking the condom box off onto the floor.

"You tryin' to tell me something?" Daryl asked, bending down to get the box.

"Isn't _I have a headache_ considered enough of an excuse these days?" Carol grouched.

"_Shit!"_ Daryl bit out and tried to scoop the spilled packets back into the box but they were slithery slick against one another and kept slipping out of his fingers. He was leaning so far over to reach them that he knocked into the nightstand, upsetting the lamp.

"Oh for Christ's sake, what are you doing?" Carol said, fed up. She threw the book down and glared at him.

"Tryin' to pick up the fuckin' condoms you knocked off—that all right with you?" Daryl grouched right back.

"Just leave them." Carol said icily. "You're not going to need them tonight." And then she righted the lamp, pulling it right to the edge to give the maximum amount of light so she could go back to her book.

Daryl slowly sat up. He waited for her to acknowledge him, but she ignored his expectant posture and stare.

"I tried Carol. I asked her—spoke to her in person—she wouldn't budge." He finally said, knowing what she was freezing him out about. After the meeting today he'd told her Deanna's negative decision on their housing request.

She didn't respond.

"You can try talking to her yourself." Daryl tried, "It's just... she sees how much the boy...she said she can see _he_ wants—"

"You said you'd do what _I _wanted." Carol rounded on him, taking off the reading glasses and throwing the book down so she could meet his eyes.

"Well..." Daryl said, his hand plucking nervously at his chin whiskers, "...maybe want you _want _and what you _need_ are two different things this time."

Carol's gaze flashed with anger, fear and something else that he recognized as betrayal.

"I told you I can't do this, Daryl." She said, her voice shaking. She pulled the blanket off of her and slid down the bed around him and off to stand beside it. She was dressed, wearing the same clothes she'd been in all day. She quickly went to the closet and stood up on her tiptoes to retrieve a small packed duffle bag off a shelf and then went to the dresser to grab her trench knife and triage bag.

"Runnin' away again?" Daryl asked, his gravel laced voice full of controlled pain.

"I want you with me Daryl, but I can't stay here." Carol said, her look pleading with him to understand. "I'll be at Aaron and Eric's. There's room for you there too."

"You _sure_?" Daryl asked bitingly and he picked up the small green book she had been reading and held it out to her.

Carol stared at him, tears filling her eyes at his jealous insecurity and then she shook her head at him in sorrow. She came close enough to take Morgan's Zen book out of his hand and unzipped her duffle to put it inside.

Daryl grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

"_Don't leave me."_ He said with soft desperation, thinking of all the times he'd almost lost her, had been too stubborn or insecure to just claim her—no, to _tell her_ how he _felt _about her.

"I'm not leaving _you." _Carol said. She dropped the book and the bag, pulled her wrist from his grip, lifted her hands to cup his face gently, and leaned in to kiss him tenderly.

When she lifted her mouth from his, she pushed his ridiculously long bangs off of his face and looked into his watery blue burning eyes.

"_I love you, Daryl,"_ Carol said, her tears spilling over, "but if I stay in this house and let myself love that boy it will kill me when he dies."

"_Carol! Daryl! We got a Code Red!"_ Carl shouted from the hall, pounding on their door.

Leaving her duffle on the floor Carol ran and got Daryl's crutches for him and then they both grabbed their weapons and headed out the door.

* * *

The campfire felt hot on his face, the smell of smoke heavy and oppressive—had he fallen asleep too close to the center of the circle of exhausted people sleeping around the low fire?

Abraham felt woozy, muddle-headed, like he was coming off a week long bender. That rot gut shit 5th of whiskey he'd scrounged outa an abandoned car two days ago was gone—why the fuck did he have a fucking hang over? He rolled up into a crouch, feeling the pavement hard on his hands and knees, felt his stomach roil and vomited, throwing himself back into a sitting position when he was done.

The sound of breaking glass drew his head up with a snap and he saw a house—a burning house—illuminating the night sky directly in front of him. The fire was well engaged with flames leaping up and out of the windows. He looked around wildly and saw another body lying in the street a few feet away and half crawled, half walked to it, turning it over.

"_Eugene!"_ Abe shouted and shook the other man and then checked his pulse—strong but slow. Abraham slapped him hard and he began to stir, groggy and confused.

"_Abe! What the hell happened?"_ Michonne yelled, running down the street towards him, katana raised. "Code Red is the prison houses! Code Red!" she yelled into her walkie talkie.

She wore her constable's uniform; Abe frowned, thinking that he missed her form fitting vest; missed Carol's cleavage and grabable ass hidden under her Junior League shit, missed Rosita's bare belly on display regular-like... Alexandria was _hell_ on the women's wardrobes.

"_Alexandria..." _Abe muttered, shaking his head to clear it, looking around him. They were behind the Zone walls, safe. He was pulling night guard duty over the prisoners; him and Eugene.

"_Abraham!"_ Michonne yelled again.

"Don't know...I...don't know..." Abe looked over at Eugene again and he was rousing, looking around, just as confused.

"Oh my god—you're safe—oh thank god!" Rosita cried, tackling Abe where he sat. Spencer had already called the fire in from the tower outside the walls and the general alarm had sounded, bringing everyone running.

Tara and the new woman, the doctor, were right behind her, carrying the same triage backpacks as Carol. Tara went to Eugene, fussing over him as well while the doctor knelt beside Abraham. Rosita released her strangle hold on her lover so he could be examined.

"How did you get out? Did you inhale any smoke?" Erin asked, holding his chin and using a pen light to check his pupil reactions.

"Dunno—woke up here in the middle of the goddam street!" Abe said, still feeling dazed.

"You're dilated a bit..." Erin said, frowning. "Open up." she ordered and then checked his airways.

She moved over to check Eugene and found him in the same state.

"Are they all right?" Carol asked, running up, out of breath and sliding to a stop beside Abraham. She had her medical bag and was trailed by Carl, Enid and Ron. Daryl had stayed back at the house with Sam and Judith.

"I think they were drugged." Erin said, looking up at Rick who had just ran up with Deanna. "No sign of smoke inhalation and they didn't make it out of there on their own steam—someone got them out..._just_ them..."

Rick glanced at Carol and she held his eyes and gave him a tiny back and forth shake of her head.

More people arrived and Sasha supervised the running of several garden hoses from nearby houses to try and contain the blaze, but the best they could do in the end was water down the roofs and sides of the houses to either side of the two that were burning out of control.

The two houses that held the Wolves.

* * *

In the morning Deanna, Morgan, Daryl, Rick and Abraham watched as Eugene poked through the smoking ruins, taking samples. The bodies had already been removed; the few that had reanimated were put down and all of them laid out in a row on the street in a make-shift morgue, covered by tarps and old sheets, being examined one at a time by Yang with assistance from Carol, in a white plastic tent set up in the front yard of the house next door. There were the same number of bodies as there had been captives in each house, a total of eighteen.

"Anything to report?" Deanna asked.

Eugene was wearing a surgical mask, light blue CSI style coverall and vinyl gloves and was carrying a wire basket with corked test tubes and screw top sample jars. He pulled down the mask before speaking.

"Need to get it back to my lab, but I am 99.1 percent confident that I will be able to show that an accelerant was used." Eugene said.

"So someone definitely set the fires." Deanna sighed.

Erin came out of the tent, pulling off her face mask and gloves, and walked over to the knot of observers.

"They all show signs of smoke inhalation. I'm pretty sure that's what killed them—they were dead before the fire got to them." Yang said. The scrubs she wore were a cream yellow and marred with traces of ash, blood and other fluids.

"Think they used the same stuff as on me n' Eugene? Drugged them?" Abe asked.

"There are several kinds of anesthetic agents that don't leave a chemical trace. It could've been introduced as a gas, through ingestion or injection. I'll do what tests I can on the lung and tissue samples from the victims...I don't really have a lab...maybe I can talk to Mr. Porter and see what equipment he's gathered?" Erin looked at Eugene and smiled.

"Any way in which I may be of service, ma'am." Eugene responded in his usual wooden tone, but then, looking shy, ducked his head and nodded.

"So you're investigating these as _murders_?" Morgan asked, sounding skeptical.

"Are you saying we shouldn't?" Rick asked coldly, knowing his integrity was being questioned.

"You planned to execute them all—why not just write it off as a job well done?" Morgan shrugged, and then added sarcastically, "That's what you do around here, isn't it? That's what passes as justice in the Alexandria Free Zone? No one left alive to question it?"

"They're not _all_ dead." Deanna said flatly.

Rick looked at her sharply.

"But there are eighteen bodies." Dr. Yang protested. "That's how many Wolves you took."

"_Deanna."_ Rick cautioned.

"They need to know." Deanna disagreed. "Rick and I were questioning Davidson last night. He wasn't here when the fire started. We have him in lock down at a secret location."

"_What?"_ Erin said, looking horrified. "The Lupus Dei is still alive?"

"_Then who is the eighteenth man?"_ Eugene asked, his puzzlement mirrored in the faces of those around him.

"Maggie and Glenn are doing a door to door today to see if we're missing any one," Deanna said, "We're telling people it's just a precaution, making sure people have fire extinguishers after last night reminded us of that vulnerability."

Erin and Morgan, the two newest arrivals looked a bit shell shocked at the ease with which these people practiced subterfuge, but Daryl, Abe and Eugene nodded along with what the ASZ leader was saying.

"Run us through everything you remember from last night." Rick asked the two survivors of the incident.

While Rick continued questioning Eugene and Abraham, Daryl worked his way over to the tent where Carol working labeling the samples that had been taken from the burned bodies. The irony of it was lost on neither of them.

Carol had an odd look on her face and was shaking her head at something she was looking at on the folding table in front of her.

"What's wrong?" Daryl asked, frowning at her. "You okay?" he asked.

She'd come back to the house with Rick and the kids to try and get a few hours of sleep last night when the fire was finally out. Exhausted from the night's events, she'd simply curled herself around him on the couch where he'd held vigil waiting for them to return, and had fallen asleep in his arms.

Sam carefully poking them announcing breakfast was ready had her waking and looking at up him with the saddest small smile Daryl had ever seen.

"What do these look like to you?" Carol indicated a plastic container filled with lumps of burnt black flesh.

"Barbeque." Daryl drawled.

Carol glared at him.

"Sorry, but I ain't gonna get all broke up over a bunch of murderin' rapin' assholes gettin' taken out and solvin' our problem for us." Daryl shrugged, and then felt a pang of regret, recalling that one of the dead might be one of their own. He was about to reveal that tidbit of information when she called him over.

"Come here." Carol said, backing over to the final body which was still on the exam table. She lifted the sheet and Daryl grimaced at the blackened corpse which had curled into fetal position.

"I'm lookin'—what am I supposed to be seeing here?" Daryl asked. He could see where samples had been excised from the skin to determine the degree of burn in a few locations, but not much else.

"What's _not _there?" Carol asked.

Daryl looked closer.

"She cut off his _dick_?" His eyes went wide and then he looked over at Carol.

"She cut off all of them." Carol told him, "There are eighteen in that container."

"_Oh Holy Shit."_

* * *

AN: Yes, it got a bit angsty for Caryl &amp; now we have a murder mystery. So many possible suspects, eh? Who do you think is responsible? And who is the 18th man?

Mwahahaha!


	21. Chapter 21: The Harpy

_Concerned about who might've carried out the unauthorized execution of the Wolves, Rick, Daryl, Michonne and Abe meet in secret to discuss the possibilities; while Carol works with Dr. Yang on analyzing the remains for clues and a surprising truth or two are revealed._

Note: A _harpy_ is a mythological monster depicted as a sharp clawed bird of prey with a woman's face. They steal or befoul the food of their victims while they are eating and carry evildoers (especially those who have killed their family) to Tartarus, the place of punishment in the ancient Greek Underworld.

* * *

_**The Harpy**_

_Wherefore, the wolf-pack having gorged upon the lamb, their prey,_

_With siren smile and serpent guile I make the wolf-pack pay -_

_With velvet paws and flensing claws, a tigress roused to slay.  
_**-**Robert William Service

''We have to consider her, you know that." Rick said, running a tired hand through his hair, looking over at his best friend with weary apology.

"_Fuck you."_ Daryl growled. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"She's killed before." Rick said stubbornly.

The small subset of Team Family meeting here in the basement of the Armory included none of the original Alexandria residents. What they had to discuss included information unknown to Deanna and the others and they wanted to keep it that way for now.

It was just before lunch time, the day after the Wolves had been taken out. They'd given the excuse that they needed to check and made sure nothing in the weapon stores had been taken. Carol had gone with Dr. Yang to help process the samples and to keep an eye on her and Rick used the opportunity to add her to the list of suspects.

"We're _all_ killers." Michonne said from her standing position across the room next to Abe, both of them leaning against the wall, her eyes sad, but mouth set in a determined line. "We've done what we had to—to stay alive."

"It's what _we _did ...back at the church..." Abe said from his place next to Michonne, his moustache drooping low in remembrance.

"For what they were, what they did to Bob—you didn't kill a helpless person in their sick bed." Rick murmured.

"This is bullshit." Daryl glared at him and shook his head. He thought they were all past this long ago. Tyreese had forgiven Carol for what had happened back at the prison; she had saved them at Terminus, why was Rick dragging it up again? Why had Maggie alluded to it in Council?

"You think she did it?" Michonne asked Rick bluntly.

"I think she's capable of doing it." Rick said, looking at Daryl, adding with weary understanding. "To protect us—protect the family."

"It wasn't Carol." Daryl said and then made a harsh dismissive noise, shifting back in his chair. His tense body language reflected that he grudgingly acknowledged the _possibility_ of what Rick said, but also the belief that she was different now; that what had happened between them, the way they were with one another now meant that she wouldn't have done this without telling him.

"You got proof?" Abraham asked, "Or is that just your dick talkin'?"

Daryl's head swiveled to the ex-Army man, left eye twitching and right hand drifting to the keeper strap of his big knife, almost absently unsnapping it and re-snapping it as he spoke.

"Carol was in the same Council meeting as the rest of us all day." Daryl said, and they all knew that underneath his deceptively calm tone was tightly controlled anger. Next he looked over at Michonne, aiming his biting list of further evidence at her, "After the meetin' Carol was in bed with a migraine and then there with me until the Code Red."

He didn't tell them that they'd argued over the boy and she'd been about to move out.

Daryl looked at all of them one at a time, his eyes travelling the circuit of the room, daring them to contradict him.

"Never thought this was a one person operation." Abe shrugged, cocking his head to the side as he stared at Daryl. "Whoever did it had help—can't exactly see someone like Carol dragging my heavy ass n' Eugene's outa there by herself."

Daryl's hand closed over the hilt of his knife.

"Now wait a goddam minute! If you're saying Daryl had anything to do with—" Rick said angrily, jumping up and getting in Abe's face.

"Maybe that leg ain't as bad off as he's been makin' out..." Abe drawled, looking around Rick to focus on Daryl who bristled even further.

"What about Sasha?" Michonne asked, getting between the two and pushing Rick back, bringing up another suspect. "They murdered Father Gabriel right in front of her."

There was silence as they all considered that. Sasha had just started to find some peace, climbing her way out of her depression over her losses and a big part of that had been her friendship with the priest and the renewal of her faith. But was that enough to stop her from reacting to loss as she'd done before? All of them but Daryl had seen her bloody fury at the church, extracting her revenge for Bob.

"Does anyone know where she was that day?" Rick asked.

"Perimeter reconnaissance outside the wall all day...alone. No one remembers what time she came back in." Abe said. They didn't really keep track of the comings and goings of their own people through the gates.

"We'll have to question her...and the others who had motive." Rick said in a resigned tone.

"Who here _doesn't_ have motive? After what they did? Attacking us? Knowing the other shit they've done?" Daryl scoffed and they all thought about what they had seen in Erin's testimony.

"What about Yang?" Abe asked. "That was some freaky shit she did to the bodies."

Daryl had shared what Carol and he had seen after the postmortems on the Wolves; what particular _part _of their anatomy she had excised.

"She has more reason than most to want them dead." Michonne said. "The kinds of sexual sadism she says she saw...who knows what they did to her while she was with them... the mutilations? It could be a revenge thing. I get that."

"Or some killers take trophies..." Rick said uneasily. They really knew nothing about the woman except what she had told them. She seemed to have medical skills, but what better way to gain access to potential victims than under the guise of helping them?

"Carol said there _might_ be some medical reason she did it—gonna ask her about it when she sees an opening today." Daryl said.

"Rick?" Glenn's voice came from the top of the stairs.

"Come on down." Rick called.

Glenn and Maggie quickly trooped down the stairs, anxious looks on both of their faces.

"We finished the door to doors." Maggie said, and then added reluctantly, "And there _is_ someone missing." she looked at Glenn and then took his hand supportively.

"Glenn? Who is it?" Rick asked.

"Nicholas." Glenn said with a sad wincing frown.

They all knew that the two men had a troubled past from the time they'd met. As Aidan's right hand man, he and Glenn had come into conflict while out on a training run, when the two men's actions had endangered Tara. Then his cowardice had caused Noah's death, leading directly to the confrontation between him and Glenn outside the walls when Nicholas had wounded and tried to kill him.

After Glenn had shown him mercy, he was placed on a sort of probation, working for Tobin in the gardens and on lock-down in his supervisor's home at night. After Tobin's death in the Wolves' attack, things had gotten out of routine and work shifts disrupted.

"Tobin's sister said she hasn't seen him since yesterday morning." Maggie said. "He was supposed to be heading to the gardens to see how much damage was done there, but didn't come back. She was going to report it, but the fire happened..."

"So either he hopped the fence—" Michonne said.

"Or he's the eighteenth man." Daryl finished.

"But why kill Nicholas?" Maggie asked.

"Maybe he saw whoever did it and tried to stop them?"Glenn asked, hoping that the man he'd spared had gone out trying to do good.

The rest of the group looked at him skeptically. Bravery was not typically Nicholas' strong suit.

"Well, right now he's our only missing resident." Rick said, "So we proceed on the assumption that he ran afoul of whoever took out the rest." He looked around the room and then focused on Daryl, hoping for his sake that neither he nor Carol had anything to do with this whole incident. Whoever had taken out the Wolves had solved a big problem for the community, but in the process sowed mistrust in places they could ill afford it.

* * *

"At least we know how the drug was administered now." Carol said, shaking the jar and watching the liquid in it turn purple. They had tested the stomach contents of the dead Wolves and all but one showed the same reaction. The last meal they'd eaten had been laced with what had rendered them unconscious.

"It's a start." Erin allowed.

"Anything else we need to test?" Carol asked, raising an eyebrow. "The box of _penises_, perhaps?"

"Oh, you noticed them, did you?" Yang asked, seemingly untroubled by Carol's discovery of her unusual dissections.

"I did." Carol nodded. "What I don't know is _why_."

"Because I promised them I would." Erin said with cold forceful sincerity. "Every time they forced themselves on one of the captives, every time I had to use precious antibiotics on their syphilitic dicks instead of on the wounded, every time they rubbed up against me or exposed themselves when I was trying to do my work, I promised the bastards that I would cut them off."

"And you keep your promises..." Carol said, impressed with the other woman's vehemence.

"Fuckin' A." Yang replied, snapping off her vinyl gloves and pulling off her protective gown.

"But Davidson protected you." Carol said. "You said they never touched you; on his orders."

"If you're implying that would've given me reason to spare him—_if _I was the one who killed the rest of them—you couldn't be more wrong. There's no one who deserves mercy less than that animal." Yang went over to the small table in the kitchen space and poured herself a cup of coffee from the carafe sitting on the top.

Carol removed her gloves and gown as well, moving to join the doctor at the table.

"Can't believe you people still have coffee." Yang shook her head, "It's rarer than gold—no, _platinum_—out there. People are using it as _currency_ and you blithely give it out as rations to anyone who asks."

"Almost out of chocolate though." Carol said, picking up and holding out the Tupperware container of cookies she'd brought with her this morning, offering one to Erin.

They'd actually been made by Sam and Daryl while they waited for word on the fire last night, a way to keep the both of them busy and not give in to the need to go check on Carol. Sam had tried to make them into 'cookie guys' but they came out as rather amorphous blobby turtle looking things.

"Well then, I suppose the motto of the day is _carpe cookie_!" Yang shook her head again as she took a cookie and bit into it with gusto.

"Before this, where my group was before, where we tried to make a life behind fences, there was a man who called himself the Governor." Carol said, sitting down at the table and pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"They always do that, don't they? The lunatics. Call themselves the great Grand Wizard or Der Fuhrer or the Master or some such self stroking title."

"We thought we defeated him—chased him off; he killed most of his own people before he took off. We took in the few survivors." Carol explained.

"That's...that's awful." Erin said sincerely. "But you did what you could..."

"We had chances, early on, to take him out, one on one, but the people, the individuals who had the chances couldn't carry through." Carol said, her voice tight with suppressed fury. "They let him live thinking we could work things out to make him back off."

"But he didn't." Erin said, setting down her cup with a soft clunk on the surface of the table.

"A little less than a year later he came back and destroyed our home and killed most of us as well." Carol said, the steadiness in her voice wavering as she thought of everyone they'd lost.

"_Shit." _Erin said.

"I told Andrea, one of us who got lost for awhile and ended up with him, that she should give him the best night of his life and then when he was asleep, end him." Carol remembered, sighing deeply, lost in the memory of preparing Andrea's battered bloody corpse for burial.

"Carol?" Yang prompted after a minute of silence.

"He tortured her and let a walker tear her apart." Carol said in a clipped voice, taking a long drink of her coffee and then picking up a cookie. "I don't believe in mercy any more either, Dr. Yang." she added coldly and then dunked the cookie head first, took it out, bit its head off and chewed the bite slowly.

"I wish I _had_ killed them, the Wolves, but I didn't." Yang said, looking at Carol with careful new found admiration and perhaps speculation.

"Neither did I." Carol tilted her head and then nodded, silently drinking down the rest of her coffee and finishing her cookie.

"Then I suppose we should get back to work to see if we can figure out who did." the doctor said, finishing her cup as well.

* * *

"We had to. He was going to let them out!" the hushed female voice said.

"I_ know_, but he was one of us." the second voice, male, argued in an angry whisper. "We should've let him live so the Council could—"

"So they could do _what_?" a first voice, asked sarcastically, her voice rising. "He _shot_ Glenn—Noah's _dead_ because of him too and all they did was make him a gardener!"

"And what do you think they'll do to _us_ if they find out what _we_ did?" the second voice asked, sounding worried.

"They should throw us a fucking _party_ is what they should do." the first voice said. "We solved their problem while they sat around talking in circles."

"They never should've listened to Morgan in the first place—capturing your enemies only makes them more dangerous." a third voice, male, said with resignation. "He used to know that..."

"We need to finish it." the first voice said. "The leader has to go down."

"They'll have him under even tighter security now." the third voice disagreed.

"My first plan worked, right?" the first voice said. "Trust me; we can do this."

A knock on the door stopped any response the others were going to make.

"_What?"_ the second voice asked in loud impatience, pulling open the door.

"Aren't you done with that stupid RPG yet? I want to play something—I'm bored!" Sam said, looking into the bedroom where Enid and Carl sat on front of the flat screen TV hooked up to a game console, images from World of Warcraft on the screen.

"I thought you were reading to Judith." Ron, who had opened the door, said with forced patience, putting his hand on Sam's thin shoulder to keep him out of the room.

"She went asleep in her pen." Sam pouted, "Babies are _boring_ when they're asleep."

"You can't leave her _alone_ down there, Sam!" Enid said urgently. "It's your job to watch over her—protect her from any of the bad things that could happen."

Sam started to look worried and looked over to Carl for confirmation of what Enid was saying.

"You're kind of her big brother now too, Samwise." Carl told him. "Better get back down there now."

Sam looked longingly at the game console, wavering, desire fighting with responsibility.

"Think how proud Miss Carol will be when she comes home and sees you taking such good care of Judy." Enid said persuasively.

Sam's eyes got rounder as he considered this.

"Okay..." he finally said, putting his hands on his hips,"...but after she gets home it's my turn to play. You guys shouldn't be the only ones to get to kill the bad guys!"

After he had left the room and was safely down the stairs Enid stood up and walked over to stand in front of Ron, pushing the door closed before she spoke.

"The Lupus Dei is the leader of the monsters whose responsible for the death of your and Sam's mom, Ron." Enid said. "He needs to die. Are you in?"

Ron looked over at Carl questioningly.

"They tried to kill us." Carl said. "You do what you have to do to make the people who hurt you pay." he remembered saying almost the same words to Father Gabriel, another person they'd lost to the Wolves.

"This is how we protect everyone else, Ron." Enid said, reiterating what Carl had said.

"All right... I'm in." Ron said.

Enid nodded, smiling a siren smile.

* * *

So our Miss Enid is the Harpy.

Trivia: In the video game "World of Warcraft" there are, in fact, harpies.  Harpy

In the comics, what Erin did to the Wolves is what Michonne did to the Governor, except he was still alive at the time.


	22. Chapter 22: Full of Grace

Carol and Daryl have separate talks with friends who try to help them before they meet to decide what their next step should be.

* * *

_**Full of Grace**_

_I feel just like I'm sinking  
and I claw for solid ground  
I'm pulled down by the undertow  
I never thought I could feel so low  
oh darkness I feel like letting go_

_if all of the strength and all of the courage_  
_come and lift me from this place_  
_I know I can love you much better than this_  
_full of grace_  
_full of grace_  
_my love_

\- Sarah McLachlan

* * *

"Just you?" Eric asked, sitting on the porch swing, looking at Carol who was coming up the side walk. She had a cloth bag in her hand and a pensive look on her face.

"Not sure." Carol replied, continuing up onto the porch and joining him on the swing. She unslung her bag and let it rest on the floor at her feet.

Eric put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a side hug. He placed a kiss on her temple before releasing her. Carol stayed close, feeling so low it was all she could do not to cry, leaning against him, accepting the comfort he offered.

"Did you talk to him?" Eric asked, "Tell him how you felt?"

Carol nodded yes.

"And then everything went to hell again last night with the fire..." she said. "There was no time to really talk this morning either. I haven't seen him all day. I came straight here from the Clinic."

"It's Spaghetti Tuesday—where else would you be?" Aaron asked smoothly from the doorway, holding a bottle of red wine and four glasses. Coming closer, he set the glasses down on the end table and started to pour the wine for each of them.

"No Morgan?" Carol asked, knowing that their house guest being absent would please Daryl if he decided to make an appearance.

"He's out communing with nature." Aaron said, gesturing with the bottle towards the fences.

"Also known as communing with _Sasha_." Eric said archly, taking his glass of wine from Aaron.

"_Really?" _ Carol asked with surprise.

"He's been going out on perimeter patrol with her the last few nights. Not sure if there's any more to it than he needs to get outside the walls as badly as she does." Aaron shrugged.

"That's where they were last night?" Carol asked. Sasha had been there in time to help fight the fire, but she wasn't one of the first on the scene.

"She stopped by to get him after dinner and they came back in when Spencer called in the Code Red." Eric said. "I saw them."

Eric saw a lot that went on in the neighborhood from his favorite place here on the porch.

"And I see someone else on his way down the block..." Eric said with a smile.

Carol followed his gaze line and saw Daryl, moving towards them as quickly as his crutches would allow on the sidewalk. When he saw her sitting on the porch drinking wine with the other two men, he slowed and a look of relief washed over his face. He made his way through the yard and up onto the porch, breathing only slightly heavier than usual.

"Good evening, Mr. Dixon." Eric said in mock formal tones.

"Daryl." Aaron said, offering him a glass of wine.

"You weren't there." Daryl said, ignoring their hosts' greetings and speaking directly and somewhat accusingly to Carol. "I went to the house and you weren't _there_."

"It's Tuesday." Carol said, frowning at him, "I eat _here_ on Tuesdays whether you and Aaron are here or not."

"It's Spaghetti Tuesday—where else would you be?" Aaron repeated to Carol and tried handing Daryl his glass again.

Daryl scowled at him and kept staring at Carol.

Aaron and Eric exchanged a look and then Aaron made a slight head motion towards the inside of the house. He sat the wine bottle and glass back down and then Eric stood up.

"Sit down, Daryl." Eric said, using his cane to stand and offering Daryl his seat.

"What?" Daryl reacted slowly, staggering back a bit when Eric passed in front of him, following Aaron inside the house.

"We have to check the garlic bread...or something..." Aaron called back and then the screen door slammed behind him and Eric.

"Are you going to sit?" Carol asked, taking a sip of her wine and then setting it down on the small table next to her.

"You movin' in here?" Daryl asked in a tight voice, pointing to the bag at her feet.

Carol looked down at the bag and then picked it up and handed it to him. He shuffled a little so he could free up his hands to hold the bag while still leaning on the crutches.

"Open it." she told him.

All it held was a Tupperware container half full of misshapen cookies.

"My turn to bring dessert," Carol said flatly.

Daryl let out a heavy huff and handed the bag back to her. She tossed it back down onto the floor.

"I wouldn't leave without telling you." Carol said, looking up at him. The look he gave her back said they both knew she'd tried to before. _"I won't."_ she said more softly, promising him.

Daryl stared at her and then finally nodded. He left his crutches propped up against the railing, took off and set down his bow and then limped over to sink down onto the bench beside her.

"But you don't want to go home with me either." Daryl said in a low voice.

Carol leaned against his shoulder, both of them facing forward, the truth hanging in the air between them.

* * *

_**Four hours earlier**_

After the meeting in the Armory with Rick and the others, Daryl had needed to find a place to think. He was frustrated with his friends even suggesting that Carol could have been the one to kill the captive Wolves. If anything, since they had been here in Alexandria, Carol had been _too _willing to include Rick in her plans, holding back on any actions until she'd discussed them with him and Daryl.

Rick had been the one to go off half cocked and attack Pete, the information provided by Sam through Carol about the abusive nature of the household he lived in giving the Constable enough pretext to go after what he'd wanted in the first place, another man's wife.

After living through the ordeal with Shane, Daryl just couldn't wrap his head around what Rick had been thinking in his pursuit of Jessie. In some ways the sad end of the couple mirrored what had happened with Shane and Lori. Rick had killed the one and the other had died trying to save her child.

Daryl crutched down the back streets of the small fortified town, heading for the farthest part of the wall, telling himself that he was going to check on the progress of the work on Eugene's surveillance system, but really just needing to be alone and think.

By the time he got to the gardens, his aching arm pits and sweat drenched shirt forced him to slow and pause under the shade of one of the peach trees at the edge of the fenced in space where several people worked at harvesting the fall vegetables.

A spirited discussion coming from the plot in front of him drew his attention. A tall pale redhead dressed in jeans, boots and a form fitting blouse showing off her slender figure was arguing with a short dark haired Hispanic looking woman, the billowy peasant dress she wore doing little to conceal the fact that she was quite pregnant.

The women reached seemed to be disagreeing about whom should pass first through the gate leaving the enclosure. The redhead was carrying a large wicker basket filled with produce, but instead of letting her companion hold the gate open for her to pass through she tried to shift her load onto her hip so she could hold it open for the smaller woman.

"Oh, for the love of Gaia! Just get the fuck through there before you drop it!" the dark haired woman said loudly and the red head snorted at her and finally went through the gate.

"You two ever stop bitchin'?" Daryl called out in a lazy drawl as the women drew closer.

"Daryl!" the dark haired woman cried out happily, shading her eyes and squinting over at him.

"_Dixon!"_ the redhead said with narrowed green eyes and then turned to her partner to snark, "Did you bring the flea spray, 'licia?"

"Now be nice, Claire—we're inside the walls now—he must've bathed recently. Perhaps even using flea shampoo on that dead muskrat he calls a haircut." The other woman said, adding, "You have to feel sorry for his woman though—all that wear and tear on his crotch riding that bastard of a bike must give him some difficulties..."

Felicia reached in the basket Claire was carrying and pulled out a freshly harvested carrot, holding it up by the greens so the phallic root stood straight and vertical, but then slowly let in fall to the side, illustrating the innuendo.

"Leave my crotch outa this—ain't got no problems in that department." Daryl, said, a blush starting at his collar line. He shook an admonishing finger at them.

"If you say so, Biceps—but anytime _you_ feel like talking about 'lil Dixon's shortcomings, just give us a shout." Felicia said archly, with a mischievous smile.

"For two women who don't drive stick, you _sure_ like to talk about my dick." Daryl grumped good-naturedly, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"You saying it all comes back to penis envy, Dixon?" Claire asked archly.

Daryl just shook his head at the psychologist and snorted.

"We've missed you, Daryl." Felicia said more quietly, coming close enough to pull him in to a careful hug.

Daryl allowed the embrace, but froze when he felt the odd sensation of the child within her swollen belly punch or kick against him as she held him tightly.

Claire and Felicia were the women that he and Aaron had found a few weeks ago on their recruiting mission. Sheltering in an abandoned strip mall on the outskirts of Langley, they had made use of everything available in the stores and restaurants, barricading themselves in the walk-in freezer of a butcher shop at night or when a herd came through.

Claire had almost shot Daryl as the men searched the sporting goods store next door for anything useable. Aaron's clean cut look had made her curious though and stayed her hand when they also willingly surrendered their weapons, asking for a chance to explain who they were.

Aaron had given his usual spiel about the ASZ: the walls, the safety of the place, the good people, but Daryl didn't say much. At first Felicia's pregnancy seemed to throw him, make him skittish. He left for several hours right after the women had decided to come back to the Zone, returning with a half dozen rabbits, which he wordlessly skinned, cleaned and then handed over for cooking.

During the two days they'd stayed there, Daryl continued to scavenge the area, his bike allowing him to make a wider sweep than they had been able to do on foot and brought back things like pre-natal vitamins and baby formula. However his silent kindness made the women nervous—Claire thought he was claiming Felicia and the kid as his own—so she confronted him, telling him point blank that they were together; a committed in-love _couple._

Daryl explained that they'd reminded him of someone, the woman he loved and her best friend. That he'd seen how his woman, Carol, had taken care of her pregnant friend and then how they'd saved her baby when she died. He assured them he wasn't after Felicia or her child, his dick was already spoken for and he was glad to hear they weren't interested in it.

The women had a forthright and no-holds barred attitude about sex and sexualities and had no trouble with the Dixon mouth, spouting at least the same level of obscenities in their everyday speech as Daryl, maybe even close to Merle level.

During the trip back to the Zone, they had all gotten along well, but the women had mostly spoken with Aaron while riding together in the car. Daryl was solicitous, and they felt comfortable enough with him to tease him, but he didn't really reveal much about himself after the small glimpse he'd given them about Carol and Lori.

When they'd gotten to Alexandria and saw what a conservative community it was, the women decided to play it very low key. The failure of the attempted ruse about Claire being a medical doctor had made them want to lie low, until people had let their disappointment fade into the background a bit.

When she'd revealed to Deanna that she was a psychologist, Claire had expected to have the residents approach her about counseling sessions, but so far none had. Some seemed intent on looking to their faith for a way to cope and they'd gravitated towards Gabriel and his church; others were thrown by the women's obvious relationship—they wore matching wedding bands and referred to each other as "wife"—and yet others were afraid that if they delved too deep into what had happened to them since the Turn, they'd simply fall apart.

They liked Daryl, liked his quiet compassion despite his rough ways, and thought they'd see more of him when they got to the ASZ, but he'd been busy with the preparations for the Wolves and spent whatever free time he had with Carol. The house they'd been assigned was on the other side of town and without a specific invitation, they hadn't sought him out.

Though they'd met her when she'd brought their welcome basket, they hadn't realized that the prim and proper Carol who worked at the Pantry was _Daryl's_ _Carol_ until after Pete's death and the business with the Wolves. when Felicia's prenatal care had fallen to the women staffing the Clinic, including Carol. The reserved petite woman with the grey hair and shrewd blue eyes seemed an unlikely match for the gravel voiced hard ass with a heart of gold they'd gotten to know a bit on the road.

"How have you been?" Felicia asked, concerned after feeling the tension in his body and releasing him.

"I'm fine." Daryl said, leaning back against the tree to take some weight off his leg and then looking her up and down and squinting at her belly, "You look like a happy tick, on an ol' coonhound, ready to pop!"

"That is the most disgusting description of pregnancy I think I have ever heard." Claire said, setting her basket down and grimacing at him. She made no move to embrace him, more respectful of his "keep away" non-verbals than her wife.

"Ain't no lie." Daryl shrugged, making both women shake their heads at him.

"Any progress in figuring out what happened last night?" Claire asked, knowing he would be in the thick of the investigation.

Daryl's eyes became troubled and he shook his head no.

"I was thinking—maybe I could help." Claire offered tentatively. "Working up a profile of who would do something like this—it's...it's what I used to do."

"Claire!" Felicia said anxiously, looking worried.

"It is? Thought you were a headshrinker." Daryl asked, frowning.

"I was a criminal profiler." Claire admitted. "Worked out of Langley."

"Holy shit." Daryl mumbled. Langley was where the headquarters of the CIA had been located.

"When it all went down—the Turn—we knew, before anyone, how bad it was going to get. That's why they cleared out DC, this whole area so early on." Claire said. It was the same thing Deanna had told Rick when they'd arrived. She and her family had been trying to get back to Ohio, but were turned back, ending up here in the Zone.

"But she waited too long, making sure everyone she worked with, everyone in her apartment building, was out and safe." Felicia said fondly, taking Claire's hand. "Looters stopped her, beat her, and took her car..."

"They took everything." Claire said simply. "I ended up at the place you found us—I used to shop there..."

"My husband, Paul, and I were stationed at the Joint base—Air Force." Felicia said. "Computer tech support. We were tasked with keeping the lines of communication open during the evacuation, but then the chain of command just fell apart. The CO tried to hold it together, but people started to lose it, opting out when they heard the CDC was gone, that there was no cure; people turned without being bit...we lasted about six months after that, until the supplies ran low at our base. He told us to just _go_; we'd all die there if we didn't try to find a way out."

"So how did you—when did you—?" Daryl tried asking, his confusion apparent. He'd just assumed they'd been together before, like Aaron and Eric. He hadn't wanted to imagine how Felicia had ended up pregnant, knowing all too well what could happen to a woman out there. That she'd had a _husband _wasn't something he'd ever considered.

"Paul and I made it as far as the outskirts of Langley when we got cornered by a small herd. Claire heard the shots and found us, saved us, but Paul was bitten..."

"We took off the leg." Claire said and Daryl suddenly remembered the women had been living in a butcher shop and he grimaced, thinking of Hershel and the sound of the hatchet as Rick tool off his leg.

"He lived, but we had to stay put while he healed." Felicia said. She looked lovingly at Claire and then over at Daryl, as if wondering if he'd understand what had happened next. "My husband and I loved each other, Daryl, very much, but as we all worked so hard to just stay alive, we also fell in love with _Claire_ and she with _us_."

Daryl looked down at the ground and scratched the back of his neck again. He looked up at the women from under his long bangs and slowly nodded.

"So you was... all three..._together._..?" Daryl asked hesitatingly, trying to wrap his head around the full implications of that. Knowing Aaron and Eric had opened him up to the realization that love was just love; the couple's gender didn't matter much. As far as the sex part went, in his days running around with his brother he'd personally witnessed a man getting it on with two women and vice versa, but the idea that the three of them could all be _in love_ with one another and not be jealous? He wasn't sure he was buying that.

"Does that bother you?" Claire asked, trying to read his expression.

"He dead?" Daryl asked the first question he could articulate. There had been no sign of a third person when Aaron and he had found them.

"Yes, about a month ago." Felicia said tearfully, and Claire put her arm around her shoulders comfortingly.

"Raiders came when we were sleeping—Paul was on watch, locked us in the fridge, fought them off, trying to save our supplies; kept them from finding us." Claire explained.

"Sounds like he was a good man." Daryl said with gentle sympathy, "I'm sorry you lost him."

"We still have part of him." Felicia smiled through her tears, putting both hands on her abdomen.

Daryl nodded. However unconventional their relationship had been, it was clear the child was a product of love, not pain, and for that he was glad.

"You're a good man too, Daryl." Felicia said, "You brought us here where there are walls, plenty of food, safe homes, medical care..."

"The occasional attack by an insane megalomaniac with delusions of godhood..."Claire said breezily, back to giving him crap.

"Never said it was perfect." Daryl shrugged, knowing this world was a paradise for men like the Lupus Dei and the Governor. There would always be another of their kind trying to take what they had here.

"Davidson's still our biggest problem, but whoever took out his men could be a threat as well." Claire returned more seriously. "Vigilantism can't have a place in a civilized community. I really would like to help track down the perpetrators if I can."

Daryl knew her offer was genuine, but the idea of letting someone else in on all of the past history of his group worried him. How could an outsider understand what had led up to their actions? What they'd lived through? Seen from an objective view, could the actions taken against the Termites at the church or what Carol had done at the prison—hell, even the kid that Carl had killed during the Governor's raid or the final confrontation between Rick and Shane—could any of that _not _be seen as pre-courser to the killings last night?

"I'll see what Rick thinks—he's in charge." Daryl finally said, his tone non-committal. He pushed off the tree, thinking he should get going, now with even more things to contemplate, but Felicia's hand on his forearm stopped him.

"Wait...I know you're really busy, Daryl." Felicia said, exchanging a look with Claire, who smiled and nodded back in agreement. "But we were hoping you and Carol could come for dinner some time."

Daryl grimaced involuntarily. He wasn't even sure where Carol would _be_ when he got home tonight. She'd been pretty adamant about moving out last night before the fire and subsequent events. The last thing he wanted with Rick making noises like she was under suspicion was to make her think he didn't support her, but running away from her problems would only make them worse in the long run.

"_Shit."_ Daryl muttered, leaning back against the tree and running his free hand through his hair, feeling overwhelmed. He was running on adrenaline and caffeine and anxiety.

"Daryl?" Felicia asked, concerned at the look of exhausted misery that now showed on his face after what she'd thought was a simple invitation.

"Why don't you come over and see our place now? You have time for a cup of coffee?" Claire asked, picking up her basket, coming closer and giving him a patient look, "Or maybe a beer?"

Daryl understood that this was an offer to listen, in a professional capacity if need be, to whatever was going on with him. He took a deep breath, intending to say no, but found himself nodding in agreement and following them out of the garden.

* * *

_**Four hours later, Aaron and Eric's porch**_

"I need you to do something for me." Daryl finally said, taking Carol's hand.

"What?" Carol asked, holding onto his hand like a lifeline, feeling pulled down by the undertow of emotions, afraid of hurting him, afraid of _being_ hurt by whatever he was going to ask of her.

"I want you to come with me after dinner to talk to someone." Daryl said carefully.

"Who?" Carol asked, her back stiff, wondering if Rick had asked him to bring her in for questioning about the Wolves. She'd been expecting it; another reason she was so down tonight.

"You know how we been workin' the book?" Daryl asked, "That it said we should maybe talk to a therapist when we got to a certain point?"

"You mean Claire, Felicia's wife." Carol said, keeping her voice neutral. She didn't know them well, but Claire claimed to be a psychologist now, after the ruse of her being a doctor had been unveiled. Carol didn't think any worse of the woman; she'd done basically the same sort of thing, except she'd lied to make herself seem _less_ competent.

"That sound like somethin' we could try?" Daryl asked, feeling like he was walking on egg shells, not knowing if he was pushing her too far.

Carol looked at his guardedly hopeful face. If he was willing to open up and talk to someone else about everything that he had been through in his life, all of that darkness, to try and heal, how could she do any less?

"I wish I had half your strength and courage." Carol said, pulling him close and holding on tightly as he put his arms around her.

"I just know I can do this better—love you better than this—if we can both get past this fear." Daryl murmured.

"Okay." Carol said, "I'll try."

* * *

Geographical Notes: Langley Air Force base is in McLean, VA, northwest of Washington, DC, only about 26 miles from Alexandria, VA, which is south of DC. The Joint base there shares space with other government agencies, including the CIA. And just FYI, Quantico, home of the FBI academy and lab facilities, the NCIS and a huge Marine base, is only 39 miles south of Alexandria, just off I-95, the route on Abe/Morgan's map from Atlanta. Eugene was right. They really should do some exploring in those places on the show!

AN: I rewrote this chapter three time to get the tone right. I kept feeling I was spending too much time on the OCs, (ship name Clairicia?) but I wanted Daryl to understand more of what kind of people they were before he'd agree to open up and trust them enough to bring Carol to see Claire. I also wanted to parallel Carol's friendship with Aaric.

Observant Daryl understands the possible instability of multiple members of his group and worries about what any deeper objective investigation into the Wolves killings could reveal. As Rick said to Gabriel, "We've all done something."

Thanks for reading! I appreciate every favorite, follow and especially those who have the time to review!


	23. Chapter 23: Keep on Tryin'

The plan to eliminate the Lupus Dei moves forward, Daryl finds out what shower fun time is all about and suspicion for who is responsible the deaths of the Wolves falls on someone who divides the sympathies of everyone in the Zone.

Sweet smut warning!

* * *

_**Keep on Tryin'**_

_I've been thinkin' 'bout  
All the times you told me  
You're so full of doubt  
You just can't let it be, but I know  
If you keep comin' back for more  
Then I'll keep on tryin'  
I'll keep on tryin'_

_And I feel so satisfied when I can see you smile,  
I want to confide in all that is true  
So I keep on tryin'  
I'm through with lyin'  
Just like the sun above, I come shining through  
Oh yes, I keep on tryin'  
I'm tired of cryin'  
I got to find a way to get on home to you  
_\- sung by Poco, Writer: Timothy B. Schmit

* * *

"Hello." Enid said, her solemn face blank, eyes dark and fathomless.

"Girl." Davidson said, looking her up and down with a lazy smile from his position reclining on his cot. He saw that she was young, fresh, but the hardness in her eyes said she was a fighter. He liked that; liked when they fought back. His mate and the rest of the pack would be back to rescue him soon and then he could have this little morsel any way he wanted her.

"Get on with it." Abraham said, interrupting their stare-down from his position at the door, the Uzi he held pointed at the Lupus Dei's head.

Davidson raised his cuffed hands in surrender.

"I've brought your supper." the girl said, setting it down on the small table in the corner.

"More tuna noodle surprise? Delicious, I'm sure, but I'll pass." the Lupus Dei said dismissively.

"Actually it's roast chicken and vegetables with apple pie for dessert." Enid said, lifting the lid off of the tray she'd carried in.

"Final meal for the condemned?" the captive man asked, standing so he could come close enough to take a deep sniff of the food and smile appreciatively. He hadn't been officially notified that the Bitch Queen of the Zone had decided his fate, but he was pretty certain what it would be. He took solace in the knowledge that even if his pack wasn't in time to rescue him, they would keep on trying until they burned her little kingdom to the ground, just like they'd burned his men.

The girl was silent.

Abe cleared his throat, _loudly._

"Well then, I suppose I should enjoy it." Davidson said, shuffling over to the table, his leg chain shackles clinking, sitting down at the table and pulling up the napkin, laying it carefully across his lap.

And he did, until he awoke four hours later, vomiting blood.

* * *

"You sure this is okay?" Daryl asked, trying to suppress a yawn, supporting his weight by leaning his hands on the tile wall in front of him, his head hanging down between his arms.

"I think so. It's been almost a week." Carol said, reaching past him to turn the hot water faucet up a bit higher. She glanced down at the stitches on his injured calf.

"No—I mean usin' their soap n' shampoo n' shit." Daryl said.

"It's the guest bathroom, we're guests." Carol said mater of factly. "Put your head under." She ordered and then squirted some rosemary scented shampoo into her hand.

"Ain't no invalid—can wash myself." Daryl grumbled. He'd thought showering together would somehow be sexier than this. So far he was finding it hard to even keep his eyes open.

It was after midnight and they were in the large walk in shower in the guest room at Claire and Felicia's house. They hadn't had a session with the psychologist per se, but had spent the last few hours getting to know each other, laying a foundation of friendship between the two couples. Carol had agreed that therapy was something that could be helpful, and they planned to meet again, more formally, later in the week.

When Daryl had fallen asleep on the couch next to her, their hosts had suggested they stay the night. Everyone knew they'd be at Aaron and Eric's on a Tuesday and sometimes ended up crashing there if it got late, so if anyone needed them they could track them down.

"Close your eyes. Just relax." Carol soothed, knowing when he was this tired he was always a bit grumpy. She ran her fingers through his hair making sure all the strands were wet through and then massaged the shampoo into them, pushing down to his scalp.

Daryl made a sound half way between a grunt and a groan as her fingers moved in circles at the crown of his head and down to the base of his skull. Trying to reach his brow she moved closer and he felt her soft water slick breasts press against his shoulder and sucked in a breath.

"Lower your head a little?" Carol asked him quietly and he complied, letting her continue his shampoo.

Daryl sighed as she gently cleared the tangles and massaged away his remaining tension as she rinsed out the shampoo.

"How's that?" Carol wondered, combing her fingers lightly through his locks, checking one last time for any knots.

"Feels good." Daryl admitted, a bit embarrassed, he wasn't used to being pampered like this.

Carol soaped up her hands and ran them down his neck and over his shoulders, continuing the assured massaging touch of her strong fingers down onto his back, sliding over scar and unblemished skin alike.

When she reached the base of his spine she dipped her thumbs into the dimples there, pressing in, right above the curve of his ass while the tips of her breasts grazed the middle of his back.

"_Damn_ good." Daryl sighed again and then reached back to capture her hands and draw them around his hips, pulling her up tight against him, her belly pressed to his ass, breasts full flush to his back. He leaned forward against the wall, bracing himself on it with his open hands.

Carol rested her forehead between his shoulder blades and let her hands drift lower, following the ridged V of muscle down, bringing the lather she'd spread over his back with her.

"Is this okay?" Carol suddenly asked, stopping before her hands reached their destination. Washing his hair was one thing, getting sexual, especially in a position that made him feel vulnerable, was another.

"Yeah." Daryl replied softly, trembling a little. This was Carol. She loved him. She'd never hurt him.

"You sure?" Carol asked; she didn't want him to feel that he ever _had_ to do anything just because s_he _wanted it.

"Mmm hmmn." Daryl murmured and then felt her lips curl into a smile against his spine before she pressed a kiss reached over and squirted more of the gel soap onto her hands. Before she even touched him he felt himself thicken and rise in anticipation of it. Carol treated him with such tenderness it made his chest tighten, running one finger down the length of him while she fondled and then cupped the rounded sac below with her left hand.

Making that grunt/groan noise again, Daryl leaned more of his weight on his good leg for stability. She pressed more tightly against his back, lending her support as well to keep him upright while she started her stroke.

Daryl loved her hands. The calluses they wore were the kind that came from hard work, and they felt a bit wrong over such delicate bones. Nimble enough with needle and thread to sew up a seam or a wound, strong enough to drive her knife into the brain of a walker and fire a rifle with deadly accuracy, they were also gentle enough to tend a sick child or caress her lover.

"Do you know what a beautiful man you are?" Carol asked, covering the rounded tip and flared head of his cock with her hand, feeling the softness of his skin contrast with the pulsing tautness of what it covered as she held it in her palm. She squeezed and released in a steady light rhythm with both hands.

"_Please..."_ Daryl whimpered, his hips rocking, barely moving, to the same rhythm. She was teasing him, making him wait for it.

"I can feel this—this ridge—here." she said, her hand sliding down over the glans to the veined shaft and stroking back up. "How it locks you in there..._inside_..." she stroked down again, this time all the way to the base and back up. "All of you, so thick and hard, _inside..."_

She took up a long tight stroke then, base to tip, relentless. Nipping at his shoulders, her strong thighs bucked against his, and he felt the wiry softness of her mound press into the cleft of his rounded ass, the hardened tips of her breasts digging into his back.

Daryl was panting, moaning, struggling not to just whip around, lift her against the wall and bury himself _inside..._

Sensing he was close Carol slowed, then stopped, skimming kisses up his back, over each scar while she held him. His cock jumped in her hands, throbbing with need. His back arched, rocking back against her in a silent plea for her to finish, to let him come.

"_Don't stop..."_ Daryl pleaded and she had to laugh giddily at hearing the opposite of what he had said for so long to her gentle flirting. She let go of him and before he could protest, turned him bodily, pushed him back against the wall and knelt, taking him in her mouth.

"_Oh holy fuck."_ Daryl gasped, his palms slapping back against the wall. This wasn't something he'd ever expected her to do.

Carl grasped his hip with her left hand to steady herself and used the right to make up for the length of him she couldn't fully hold inside, swirling her tongue around the ridge below the curve of the tapered head. She resumed her stroke in concert with steady bob of her head, taking as much of him as she could manage, licking and sucking down tightly.

Daryl was overwhelmed by the sensation of pure pleasure she was creating, his pants and moans becoming more guttural. He was trembling, abs tensed; his breath caught as he tried not to let his hips thrust forward the way he wanted to, afraid of hurting her.

Carol's left hand slipped back and her fingernails raked lightly against his ass and he hissed, his balls tightening, moving to the point of no return. He tried to warn her, choking out her name almost the same second as he erupted. She hummed, continuing to suckle and stroke, swallowing and licking until he had nothing left.

Daryl was done, spent, panting; his head leaned back against the tiles, unsure of how he was managing to still be standing up.

Carol released him, but leaned in and ran her hands soothingly over his abdomen as if willing his breathing to calm, pressing a warm kisses and nuzzles to his belly button.

"You all right?" Carol asked him, looking up. His eyes were tightly closed, his wet hair hanging in his face. He was still breathing through his mouth and she wasn't quite sure if the look he wore was pain or bliss.

Reaching down, Daryl grasped Carol's shoulders, drawing her up until she was standing in front of him. He opened his eyes and shook his head at her in wonder and then leaned down to kiss her thoroughly, showing her he'd been awed by what she'd done.

"Always..._right..._with you," Daryl stammered, resting his forehead on hers but swaying a bit with light-headedness, trying to explain what he was feeling, "but that was...I never thought you'd... because he..."

"I wanted to try. Not let him win. You know?" Carol said. Being _forced_ to do something was very different than _wanting_ to do it for someone you loved.

"Yeah, I know." Daryl kissed her forehead and held her close, his breathing calming after a minute or two. "Carol?"

"Hmmn?" Carol responded, reaching up and slicking his hair back off of his face so she could look into his stormy blue eyes.

"Still new to this sharin' a shower thing..." he said and then asked, with a hint of impishness, lifting up the bottle of shower gel. "D'I get to wash you now?"

* * *

Ground glass, no matter how fine, will destroy the lining of the esophagus and stomach, shredding it in the digestive process until the one who has consumed it bleeds to death from the inside.

There was nothing Yang could do to save Davidson. She was called to his room when Abraham, doing his hourly check, found him unconscious on the floor next to his bed, bleeding from the mouth and nose. Believing him to have been poisoned, the doctor tried to work out what the agent had been, searching for an antidote, but to no effect. He lingered, in agony, until almost dawn and then died.

Her autopsy of the stomach contents showed the fine but deadly crystal shards amongst the remains of his dinner. When she gave her findings to Rick, Michonne and Deanna, they started pulling in people for questioning.

Olivia was first. She admitted that she had fixed the captive's plate. The dinner had been sent along with the rest of the deliveries for shut-ins.

"What was on the menu?" Rick asked.

"Well, we had to cull the young roosters yesterday—make a hell of a racket and you only need one in a flock for fertilized eggs—so there was chicken. Started harvesting the root vegetables, so potatoes and carrots, some brussel sprouts too. Roasted them all up real nice with some tarragon. Apple sauce for dessert..." Olivia said, rambling a bit too much considering the impatience of her audience.

"Apple _pie._" Yang prompted.

"What? _Pie?_ No, we were using the big community ovens for roasting, not baking yesterday." Olivia said with assurance. "And day before was bread day. No pies."

"There was apple pie—Dutch apple pie to be exact—in the stomach contents." Yang insisted.

"So that's how the glass was introduced—a little grittiness in the top crust wouldn't have drawn too much attention if the filling was rich enough." Michonne said, exchanging a loaded look with Rick. They both knew someone who excelled at making desserts.

* * *

"_Carol?"_

She heard her name being called softly along with a light rapping knock on the bedroom door. Carol opened her eyes and sighed, knowing their little vacation from reality was over. All of the decisions that they'd avoided by staying here last night, where they were going to live being chief among them, came crashing back.

"_Carol?"_ the call and knock came again, a bit more insistent.

Carol looked at the windows, the light pink light showing it was still quite early, just after dawn. She looked over at Daryl, who lay on his side watching her, a peaceful smile curving his cheek.

"I'll get it." She said, kissed him quickly and then slid out of bed quietly, stretching out the soreness in her back. She pulled on Daryl's shirt to go open the door, buttoning it as she went.

"Good morning, Claire—we'll be up and out of your way in a little bit—thanks again for letting us stay last night, we really—." Carol began warmly, but the other woman's troubled look made her stop.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Daryl said from the bed behind her.

"Rick and Michonne are downstairs." Claire said quietly. "The Lupus Dei is dead...and they want to talk to Carol."

* * *

Hope you didn't mind the little smutty interlude there. I needed to write something to cheer me up after the Game of Thrones finale last night., They are reaching TWD levels of torturing, endangering, exiling &amp; killing off of characters I like...

Daryl is not going to be happy (to put it mildly) that Rick is pursuing Carol for the killings. Will the real perpetrators let her take the blame?


	24. Chapter 24: A Matter of Trust

Rick interrogates Carol about the Wolves and then brings her before Deanna.

* * *

_**A Matter of Trust**_

_I know you're an emotional girl  
It took a lot for you to not lose your faith in this world  
I can't offer you proof  
But you're going to face a moment of truth  
It's hard when you're always afraid  
You just recover when another belief is betrayed  
So break my heart if you must  
It's a matter of trust_

_You can't go the distance_  
_With too much resistance_  
_I know you have doubts_  
_But for God's sake don't shut me out_

_\- Billy Joel_

* * *

"We just have a couple of questions for you." Rick said quietly, his eyes on hers, steady and unsmiling.

Carol had known this was coming.

"_I still don't know about what you did_..._but I know you knew some things I didn't."_

Even though he'd asked her if she would have them, if they could join her out on the road, part of her had always felt that Rick meant more than that; join her mind set, join her in the ability to do _whatever _was necessary to keep their family alive.

She knew that he was grateful for what she had done in bringing Judith back to him, in saving them from Terminus, for her clear quick thinking to melt into the Junior League on their arrival here, but that didn't mean he _trusted_ her.

"She didn't have nothin' to do with it, Rick." Daryl grated out. The laser glare he was giving the constables would burn holes through concrete.

"I asked you to wait outside, Daryl" Rick said tersely. They had commandeered the dining room of Claire and Felicia's house for their questioning. Carol and Daryl sat next to one another on one side of the rustic table, Rick on the other with Michonne leaning against the wall near the door.

Daryl's grunted _make me _under his breath made Carol's lips briefly curl into a smile.

"Michonne, would you?" Rick said, gesturing towards the door.

"No Rick, I wouldn't. You closed us out last time. I think we'll stay right here." Michonne said evenly, blinking her basilisk eyes at him.

A flush crept up Rick's neck and his jaw tightened, but he nodded, conceding the point. Other than his children, these were the three people he had felt closest to in the world; they were his contemporaries, his compatriots. They'd saved each other's lives a dozen times over and it hurt like hell to think they might have to part ways over this.

"Have you done any baking lately, Carol?" Rick asked, squinting slightly, his head angling to the left.

"What the fuck?" Daryl scowled and frowned in confusion.

"_Baking?"_ Carol asked, raising an eyebrow and looking over at Michonne to silently ask if he was serious with this.

"Contributions to the food delivery service." Rick clarified.

"I made a batch of cookies to share with Dr. Yang and take to dinner last night." Carol frowned, "I haven't been on food service since last week when Deanna reassigned me to the Clinic."

"What's this about, Rick?" Daryl asked.

"The Wolves were poisoned." Carol said. "Yang found traces in their stomach contents. They were drugged to knock them out—immobilize them before the fire."

"That's right." Rick said. "Drugs you had access to at the Clinic."

"Along with Rosita, Maggie and now Yang—we all have keys to the drug cabinet." Carol said, anticipating his next question. There were also others in and out of there all the time when the cabinet had been opened to dispense meds to people. Add to that the fact that Morgan's plan meant everyone with a dart gun had also had access to something that could knock a grown man out. It didn't exactly narrow the list of suspects.

"Davidson is dead." Rick said quickly, watching for her reaction.

"How?" Carol asked. Claire had already told them the news so it wasn't a surprise.

"_So?"_ Daryl blurted at the same time.

"_I'm_ asking the questions." Rick said forcefully.

"Someone fed him ground glass in his Dutch apple pie." Michonne answered Carol.

"That do the same thing to his innards as it does to a car's?" Daryl asked.

"Exactly." Rick said, still looking at Carol.

"Ugly way to die." Michonne said, but then shrugged.

"Couldn't happen to a better guy." Daryl snorted.

"So. Have you baked any pies lately, Carol?" Rick asked.

"No." Carol said, raising her chin and widening her eyes as she shook her head back and forth.

That should have been good enough, but Rick slouched in his chair and tapped his right index finger on the table in front of him, continuing to stare at her.

"We done here?" Daryl asked, what little patience he had begun this with at an end.

"We found the rest of the pie, Carol." Rick said in a deceptively quiet tone, "Buried at the bottom of the trash at our house."

Carol shook her head in silent denial.

"Anybody coulda put that there." Daryl said.

"Anybody includes her." Rick replied. "And she's the one with a history of eliminating threats like this."

"Carol didn't have _anything_ to do with _any_ of this shit." Daryl said adamantly, his voice rising.

Carol put her hand on Daryl's arm, both thanking him for defending her and to quiet him.

"I understand why you did it Carol—after hearing what they did to their captives?" Rick said, his voice pitched low and sympathetic, "The abuse? What you've went through in your marriage? You couldn't take a chance of that happening here; happening to our _family._.."

Daryl made a rude noise in response to Rick's attempt at psychoanalyzing her possible motives.

"We're done here—come on—we're leavin'" Daryl said to Carol, bracing his hands on the table and struggling to stand, pulling her up with him from the grip she still held on his arm. Carol helped him get his crutches and they started for the door.

Rick stood up and stepped in their path.

"I'm sorry, I can't allow that." Rick said, his hands at his sides, not yet drawing a weapon.

"Get out of the way, _Grimes._" Daryl growled, straightening to his full height and trying to shoulder past the other man.

"Don't _do_ this, brother." Rick tried, raising his hands to hold Daryl back.

"Rick—we don't have to—" Michonne tried and then looked to Carol for help, distracting them both as Daryl dropped his crutches and swung his fist in one smooth motion, connecting hard with Rick's mouth, knocking him back.

Rick staggered into Michonne, who grabbed him and kept him from falling, both of them looking back at Daryl with disbelief.

"_Daryl!"_ Carol called out. _"Stop!"_ she came up behind him and put her hands on his back to both calm and support him.

"He's _not_ going to railroad you this time—not while I'm here." Daryl said, jaw clenched in fury, biceps bulging as he held his fists at the ready.

"Rick's just trying to do his job." Carol said calmly, moving to stand beside Daryl, closing her left hand over his upper arm. "Just like always. He just doesn't know..._this time's different."_

"Different?" Rick scoffed, spitting blood, thrusting his chin out at Daryl, "Because you dragged _him _into it, by the _balls_?"

"Least I _got_ some." Daryl sneered back.

Michonne jerked Rick back before he goaded Daryl into exchanging more blows.

"At the prison?" Carol asked Rick, "When you asked me if I killed Karen and David, what did I say?"

Rick stared back at her, wiping his hand across his bloody mouth and wincing when he inadvertently rubbed the salt from his skin into the split of his lip.

"Yes." Rick admitted. She hadn't tried to evade the truth when he'd asked her point blank. "You said yes."

"So ask me." Carol said, her voice controlled calm.

"Did you kill Davidson? The Wolves?" Rick asked. The smell of burnt flesh at the latter crime scene had brought back that day in the prison yard, the anguish on Tyreese's face, the sympathetic pain on Carol's reminding him how well she could mask her true emotions when necessary.

"_No."_ Carol replied, looking him right in the eye.

Rick stared into the unflinching crystal blue. He wanted to believe her. After all they'd been through, after all she had done for him...she had been as dear to him as any sister could be. He _wanted_ to believe that she wouldn't do this. That he could trust her again.

* * *

Carl, Enid, Ron and Sam stood in the middle of the street, on their way to the first day of resumed classes in the garage that served as a one room school house. Their attention, like that of everyone on the street and porches of the surrounding houses, was arrested by the sight of the constables walking on either side of Carol, each of them holding one of her upper arms. A furious Daryl trailed behind on his crutches.

Breaking away from the others, Sam ran to Carol, his fear and confusion reflected on his young face.

"Miss Carol? What's wrong?"

"Outa the way, Sam." Rick said, halfway between kind and brusque. He knew how much Sam cared about Carol and wished he hadn't been here to see this.

"What's going on?" Sam asked, looking back and forth between Rick and Carol, walking quickly to keep up with the adults.

"It's all right Sam, Deanna asked us to find Carol to come talk to her about a problem." Michonne said, trying to placate him.

"Why do _you_ have her knife?" Sam asked, pointing at the brass knuckle style handle of Carol's trench knife which was now protruding from the scabbard hung at her belt.

"Sam." Carol said sharply, drawing his attention to her, "I'm fine. You need to get to school now."

"Why did they have to _find _you? Were you lost? You didn't come home last night." The boy frowned up at her, knowing there was something off about the situation, but not understanding what it could be.

He tried to reach for Carol, but Michonne blocked him, gently knocking him back a step.

"Sam!" Ron called, taking a step towards his brother after exchanging a worried look with Carl.

Sam ignored Ron and looked to Daryl, the last person in the group, for a possible explanation, and grabbed hold of his crutch to stop him.

Daryl halted, but Rick and Michonne kept Carol moving, heading for the steps to Deanna's porch.

"Mr. Daryl? What's going on?" Sam asked, starting to sound frantic.

"Don't worry, kid, we'll get this straightened out." Daryl assured him in a tight voice, "Just a misunderstandin'... about a _pie_."

Carl inhaled sharply and his eyes widened.

"Don't worry—I'm watchin' out for her." Daryl told Sam quietly, "Now go on to school like Carol asked you to, okay?

Sam looked doubtful, but Daryl leaned to the side to free up his right hand and put it on the boy's shoulder. He leaned down and spoke into the boy's ear as reassuringly as he could.

"_It'll be okay."_

* * *

"Why didn't you bury it? Put it in the incinerator? Take it outside the wall?" Ron asked, his voice rising in panic.

Classes over, they had left Sam with Tara and Judith downstairs and retreated to Carl's room upstairs saying they had homework to do. They were discussing the pie that Enid had baked in the middle of the night, the one with a special garnish of ground glass...

"You did it on purpose—you _wanted_ them to blame Carol." Carl accused. "I should've never told you what happened at the prison." Wanting to impress her with how bad ass everyone in his group was, he'd been telling Enid stories about their lives before Alexandria. She had been especially interested in hearing that despite her present mousy demeanor, Carol was a _warrior_ woman.

"I did what I had to do. Do you want to end up out there again?" Enid asked Carl, her voice ice. She looked over at Ron, "_You_ wouldn't last a week—and what about your brother? You're the only family he has now; are you willing to just abandon him?"

"It's not right." Carl said stubbornly. "We have to tell them it was us."

"We're just kids. They won't kick us out." Ron reasoned.

"Are you sure? They were talking about making Carl's dad leave after he went postal on yours..." Enid argued, but then stopped, seeing the discomfort on both boys' faces. What their fathers had done and the horrible outcome at the town meeting was something they avoided talking about.

"They kicked Davidson out for a lot less than murder." Enid continued, still trying to make her point that confessing would get them banished.

"My dad's dead because he killed Reg. So what do you think they'll do to Carol?" Ron asked.

"Daryl won't let them do anything to Carol—he'll protect her." Carl said, but his face betrayed his concern for both of them. He knew how stubborn his father could be once he'd made a judgment about someone. If he thought Carol was guilty and Daryl went against him, it could cause a huge rift as people took sides.

"Then everything's cool, right? She'll be fine. We just keep our mouths shut until this all blows over." Enid said, raising her eyebrows and looking back and forth between the two boys.

"I guess." Ron said slowly, still sounding unsure, but agreeing.

"Carl?" Enid prompted, coming over and running her fingers down his arm until she reached his hand and then laced her fingers through his, looking up at him with a doe eyed expression.

After a few beats Carl nodded yes, frowning.

* * *

"You're sure?" Deanna asked Rick, looking dubious. She stood with her arms crossed in front of her looking down at him and Michonne, who sat on one couch in her living room and Carol and Daryl who sat on the one opposite.

"Yeah." Rick mumbled around the ice pack he held over his swollen mouth. Carol was applying a similar one to Daryl's bruised knuckles.

"Playing on someone's guilt is tricky business." Deanna said, "There are some people who just don't feel remorse."

"You do unless you're a _psycho_." Daryl grunted, sharing a look with Rick and Michonne, "Which I guess this apocalypse _does _seem to breed like rabbits."

"You can push guilt down, learn to live with it, but it's always there, under the surface, corrupting everything good you try to do. Sooner or later the truth rises and you have to deal with it." Carol said quietly.

"And that's why you're finally ready to tell me then? _Your_ truth?" Deanna asked her.

"My truth?" Carol shook her head and gave the ASZ leader a weary smile. "Taking a life, even to save the lives of others is never easy. Sometimes people can forgive you. If you're lucky maybe even the ones you hurt will...but the truth is...you can never forgive _yourself_."

"And the people in your group all know—what you did back at the prison you came from?" Deanna asked Carol, who nodded.

"Tyreese wanted them to know he forgave her." Michonne clarified, "He talked to everyone before we got to the church. I don't think Gabriel knew...or Noah...but everyone else does."

"So they know why Rick would suspect her." Deanna nodded. "And we have the evidence—the pie remnants in her garbage."

"'Cept Carol's too smart to make a mistake like that." Daryl said. "Someone put it there to frame her."

"And you agree with that interpretation, Rick?" Deanna asked, narrowing her eyes at her constable. "You trust that Carol didn't have anything to do with what happened to the Wolves?"

Rick looked over at Carol, holding the ice pack to Daryl's hand, looking back at him. That was the Carol he knew—nurturing and protective-the one who'd saved all of their asses at Terminus. He removed his own ice pack and tossed it on the coffee table.

"If she did, she'd admit to it." Rick said with new assurance. "I trust her."

Carol gave him one of her tiny, barely there smiles before looking back at Deanna.

"So we let them think we believe it was Carol; that their frame up worked, then." Deanna said slowly, "To draw them out."

"And we keep investigating." Michonne said. "They made one mistake, they'll have made more.

"Food." Carol said succinctly. "That's what all the deaths have in common. Someone tampered with their food. We need to look at who had access to it—the ingredients, the preparation—"

"The deliveries?" Daryl asked, something Carol had told him earlier registering. "You said when you got reassigned to the Clinic someone _else_ took over the deliveries."

Everyone looked to Carol.

"Oh god." Carol looked back at Daryl with a sick expression. _"Enid."_

* * *

_All it took was a good punch in the mouth to wake Rick up, LOL! Daryl should've done it back at the Prison-just sayin'..._

_Wonder what he'll do when he finds out the part his own son had in the killings?_

_Thanks for reading! You are all wonderful;-)_


	25. Chapter 25: Helpless

The investigation into the Wolves' deaths continues.

Trigger warning: discussion of sexual abuse and attempted rape.

* * *

_**Helpless**_

"_I am here to tell you that there are people who have never been defeated.__  
__They managed to avoid scars, humiliations, feelings of helplessness,  
as well as those moments when even warriors doubt the existence of God.  
They are the ones who never fought.''__  
_―Paulo Coelho, _Manuscript Found in Accra_

* * *

Carol was placed in custody pending further investigation, detained in the new lock-up, a house near the south side of the compound near the gardens. Michonne volunteered for guard duty while Rick convened a meeting of the Family to explain the situation. Deanna had already issued carefully worded formal statement to the community at large, but Rick and Daryl wanted a chance to observe Enid's reaction more closely.

The news set people on edge. Most found it hard to believe that Carol had done it, but others, like Eugene, thought if she had, she should be celebrated, not punished.

Daryl saw Enid nodding along with the Mullet's stilted but sincere praise of Carol's "awesomeness" and wondered how she really felt about the woman she had possibly set up for murder. She was close enough to Carl that the kid might've told her what Carol had really done to rescue them at Terminus; what kind of a person she really was. Would Enid admire that? Probably. She'd survived out there on her own for some time as well.

After the meeting Tara asked Enid to help get Judith ready for bed, something Rick had prearranged to separate her from Carl and Ron so they could talk to the boys individually. Thinking Daryl would have better luck with Carl, they'd decided to have Deanna talk to Ron under the pretense of asking his opinion on the determination of his and Sam's permanent living arrangements.

Daryl looked over at Carl, who had spent the entire meeting looking pensive, holding Enid's hand. As soon as Enid left, Daryl approached him.

"Can't stay cooped up in here—goin' for a walk." Daryl said, "Maybe shoot some rabbits down in the garden." That was true enough. The hungry little pests were digging under the walls to get at the produce the gardens were full of at this time of year.

"Could use some help n' you could use more practice with the bow." Daryl said to the boy, but Carl was watching Enid take Judith from her playpen, laughing with Tara at how rank her diaper smelled when they checked it and then heading upstairs to give her a bath.

"Carl!" Daryl said a little more brusquely. "Stop moonin' over yer girlfriend and pay me some mind."

"What?" Carl reeled back, blinking up at Daryl—though in truth the boy was almost as tall as the archer now. The way he'd grown in the last two years he'd probably be taller than his father as well by the time he was done.

"Headin out to police the garden for Peter Cottontail so's I don't go stir crazy—you in?" Daryl offered again. "Get in some bow practice."

"I thought you'd be..." Carl frowned, his hands making a confused little gesture, "I thought you'd go over to see her."

Daryl looked pained.

"Off limits." Daryl scowled and grunted.

"You're not allowed to see Carol? That totally sucks!" Carl said indignantly.

"They think I'm gonna try and bust her out or some such shit." Daryl snorted.

"Are you?" Carl asked, totally serious, sounding ready to offer his help if needed.

"Only if I have to, little man." Daryl said quietly, putting his hand on Carl's shoulder and giving him a push towards the door.

* * *

"So she couldn't have pulled it off by herself." Michonne argued, "Girl barely weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet."

"She's _not_ helpless. Someone can drag a person heavier than they are easier than they can carry them." Carol said and they both went quiet at the uncomfortable recognition that she knew that from experience.

After an awkward silence Michonne started rifling through the box of games, movies and paperbacks that Rosita had brought by to keep them occupied. She picked up an old DVD, _Thelma and Louise_ and held it up for Carol, who chuckled wryly. The story of a woman who killed the man who beat and tried to rape her best friend also cut a bit too close to home for both of them.

Sometimes during the winter they were alone together, she and Andrea would tell each other favorite film plots, like bards reciting myths; this was one of their favorites. They identified, perhaps a bit too much, with the bad ass women's tragic but oddly triumphant pilgrimage across the country, searching for a place they could be safe, assailed from all sides. But Andrea had gone off the cliff...without her...

"Smart too. If she tapped Carl and Ron like we think she did, to help her." Carol added. "Lucky for her they both had good reasons to take the Wolves out."

"Brains will only get you so far and luck always runs out." Michonne quoted Harvey Keitel's fatalistic prophecy about Thelma and Louise's chances.

* * *

"Shit, I hate these goddam things." Daryl said, tossing his crutches to the ground when they reached the garden gates.

"Coulda been worse." Carl observed, reminding him that they both knew how much worse.

"Yeah. Ain't that the truth." Daryl nodded thoughtfully.

"And it gave Carol a reason to get your pants off..." Carl teased, making Daryl's eyes go wide.

"_What_ the hell did you just say?" Daryl swiveled his head around to stare at the boy.

"You know, to sew it up." Carl said, dead pan.

Daryl side-eyed him and then grunted in appreciation of the wry ribbing. He pulled his bow around to the front and off, narrowing his eyes to look for the brown fur of the rabbits amongst the green of the garden crops.

"My mom would be happy." Carl said, pulling the lighter weight Stryker crossbow off his shoulder and fitting a bolt to it.

"It's good you n' lil' ass kicker got a safe place to live." Daryl agreed.

"Well, yeah, but I meant about you and Carol." Carl said with a grin.

Daryl stopped, thinking back to the first days at the quarry, the CDC, the farm, the prison, seeing Lori and Carol, heads together teaching their children, comforting one another when first Sophia and then Carl were in danger; how they had become as close as sisters that winter on the road; Carol's face when she saw the baby the first time and how she tried to comfort Rick even as her own heart was breaking.

"Suppose she would." Daryl sighed with a sad little smile. "Hey—over there." he suddenly said with quiet urgency, pointing at two fat rabbits at the edge of a row of late lettuces.

Carl tipped his hat back so he could see better and took careful aim. His bolt hit the first and passed through its body to lodge in the second, two in one.

"Whoa! Did you see that?" Carl asked excitedly, sounding more like Sam, an innocent kid, than the battle hardened warrior Daryl knew him to be.

"Nice" Daryl grinned, giving him a pat on the shoulder, and then holding out his hand for the bow. "Go get' em."

Carl handed off the weapon and jogged over to the gate, at the last minute jumping over it instead of opening it to pass through. His left foot caught a bit on the top railing so it wasn't the smoothest landing.

"Shit!" Carl exclaimed, hitting the ground awkwardly but still upright, the hat tilting precariously, but still on his head.

"Grace." Daryl razzed.

Carl gave him the finger, with both hands, and then turned away to pick up his bolt and the bunnies.

Daryl had a memory flash of another defiant kid flipping him the bird, her dirt covered angry face and tangled blond braids the only thing he had to focus on or he'd slip into the pit that was so welcoming; the darkness seductive and sly. How did they keep their hope? After watching their mothers and Hershel die in front of them? Maybe it was the resilience of the young; maybe it was growing up knowing you were loved unconditionally. Daryl hadn't known that...not until these people, not until Carol...

"If they make her go...would you go...with her?" Carl asked haltingly, making Daryl blink, startled. The boy stood and looked at him, holding the bloody small bodies by their ears in one hand and his bolt in the other.

"Ain't gonna come to that." Daryl said, shaking his head.

"My dad? Deanna? The rest of the Council, they think she did it—they'll make her go." Carl disagreed, upset, his concern for Carol showing.

"And we know she didn't, right?" Daryl asked, his voice calm, as if he was gentling a spooked horse. "Coz your little girlfriend did." and then watched how Carl's face seemed to go grey, his brows coming together, his mouth working, but no words came out at first.

"_How did you...?"_ he finally said, his voice raspy, breaking a bit at the end, caught between that of a boy and that of the man he would become if he lived long enough.

"The food." Daryl told him.

Carl swallowed hard and nodded.

Daryl opened the gate so he could pass through. He limped over to a bench just inside and sat, his injured leg stretched out before him.

"You and Ron both help?" Daryl asked, steepling his fingers as he leaned forward. "For his mom?"

Carl nodded again.

"N' you wanted to help your friends; protect the place from the Wolves." Daryl nodded and then beckoned the boy forward, but Carl shook his head and started pacing.

"They needed to die." Carl said coldly.

"That was the Council's call, Carl—not you kid's." Daryl told him, understanding the need to eliminate a threat, but knowing the cost. "You shouldn't have to have that kinda thing on your soul."

"When the Council met...I was there under the window; waiting for my dad. I was listening." Carl said, stopping and looking off into the distance. "I heard what the doctor said, about what the Wolves did to people...like what almost happened to me that night...those men you were with..."

"Carl-" Daryl's eyes were full of understanding, he knew, better than anyone, what thoughts haunted the boy, but there had never been time on the road; he hadn't wanted to open a wound that he didn't know how to heal, even for himself. The boy seemed to have been dealing with by forgetting it ever happened. He should've known nothing was ever that easy.

"No! You don't get it! Dad...doesn't think I know what that man was going to do to me! He wasn't just gonna kill me n' Michonne! I knew Daryl! I could feel him...pressing into me through his pants...I know what he wanted!" Carl shouted.

"Carl—stop—I get it!" Daryl said, but the boy just shook his head at him."You were scared—I get it..."

"How could you? You aren't afraid of anything!" Carl said bitterly.

Daryl sighed, feeling out of his depth, knowing he needed to let Carl know his truth, but unable to find the words. Instead he stood up and took off his jacket and vest and then started unbuttoning his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Carol asked, confusion moving across his face.

Daryl pulled off his shirt and turned around, putting his back on display, the crossed pattern of scars warring with the demons that rode his shoulder.

"You've seen these, right? Sometime when we were on the road or maybe back at the prison? Prob'ly wondered how I got'em—made up some story in your head about how I saved a bunch a babies or somethin' and then the bad guys went after me with whips n'chains? Or I wrecked my bike n' this is super bad road rash?"

Carl looked embarrassed. It was true. All of those who had seen them had speculated on how Daryl had gotten his scars, from some ritual initiation into whatever biker gang he and Merle had belonged to, to some heroic withstanding of torture for the better good. Daryl was a hero to him and the people at the prison.

"What happened to you? What almost happened? Happened to me." Daryl said tightly. "My back, well, that's what I got for tryin' to fight back."

Carl stared at the livid red and purple stripes, some more faded to white, that criss-crossed Daryl's back. That meant they hadn't all been applied at the same time. Whatever torture Daryl had endured had gone on for years. He tried to wrap his mind around what Daryl was telling him, to say something, but all he could do was look at those scars with horrified fascination.

"I wasn't lucky as you. I didn't have no one like your dad to rip out the bastard's throat." Daryl said, and then turned back around to face the boy, flashing an ironic grimacing smile as tears filled his eyes. He fought to control his sandpaper rough voice and get out the rest, "Bastard that did it _was_ my dad."

Carl's knees gave out from under him and he sat down hard in the dirt, the dead rabbits flopping down beside him as he pulled his hat off of his head.

Daryl sighed and lowered himself to the ground, eye to eye with the boy. He watched the realization of what Daryl was telling him, that he'd been raped, by his own father; try to take root in Carl's young mind, hoping it had been the right thing to do, to tell him.

"Ain't ever only told three people that—Merle knew soon as he seen my back, Aaron figured it out, n' Carol...well, I guess just can't not tell her anything." Daryl shrugged.

"Because she loves you." Carl said quietly, grasping onto that simple truth.

"Didn't ever understand it—why she kept sayin'—that I was every bit as good as respectable folks like your dad, why she even cared what I thought, why she even talked to me. ...If she knew who I really was? What I'd done? She'd never look at me the same way again. I knew I was trash... used... worthless..."Daryl's voice trailed off.

"You're not—you're a good man! You've saved us all, so many times!" Carl protested.

"I started to believe that, there at the prison. Felt like I was useful, felt needed. We had it good, we were surviving. But when it all fell apart? When I lost everything again? I was back to bein' that kid that snuck 'shine from daddy's still and beat up on kids more helpless n' I was just to make myself feel big." Daryl said with self loathing.

Carl knew that feeling, remembered after the prison fell when he thought Judith was dead; the anger and despair the night he thought his dad had died and turned.

"I was a prick to Beth—all she tried to do was keep me from giving up n' I treated her like shit. Then I let her do whatever the hell she wanted coz I felt guilty and when the walkers came, like they always do when you're stupid, she got took. That was it. I was done. Joe n' them came and made me fight to stay alive a few more days, but I was done. No way to find anyone, I was as worthless as my daddy always said I was."

"But you found us." Carl said, "You were gonna let them _kill you_ to save us—that's not what a worthless man does, Daryl."

Daryl made an embarrassed sound deep in his throat.

"Gave me back my hope, findin' you. Even with the bullshit at Terminus, didn't care. I had family again." Daryl said. "And then when Carol walked outa the woods I knew I must be worth somethin' coz someone was givin' me a second chance...to say and do all the shit I shoulda a long time ago."

Carl remembered his amazement at the running tackle hug Daryl had given Carol. None of them had ever seen him act that way.

"Losing Bob and then Beth after we almost had her back and then Ty right after...it was a lot to get through, for all of us, but we're doing it because we have each other." Daryl said. "You been thinkin' you're all alone with this, tryin' to deal with what happened to you that night. _You ain't_."

Carl looked down at the battered hat that had fallen from his head when he'd sat down. Worn down from its original blocked crisp form, chunks taken out of the brim, dirt ground into the felt, the badge of office missing, leaving small holes behind, it was a map of all they had endured since he'd been reunited with his father there in the quarry. There where he'd also met Daryl Dixon, never suspecting he'd become like another father to him.

"I'm tellin' you 'coz I don't want you to think what happened to you is something to be ashamed of—it ain't. You didn't do anything wrong. Took me a long time to figure that out. Guess I'm still workin' on it." Daryl said

"Those men, the Wolves, they were like your father, like Joe's group. They made my dad have to kill Ron's mom. Men like that...they hurt Enid too...when she was out there." Carl explained, revealing the motives of all three co-conspirators.

Daryl nodded, he'd expected as much.

"Men like that don't deserve to live." Carl said.

Daryl couldn't disagree.

"But this place? What we're trying to make here? There's a right way n' a wrong way to do things." Daryl said. "You gotta try too, Carl." He tried to rise, but his lame leg refused to cooperate. Grunting, he motioned for Carl to give him a hand up to stand.

"What do you think they'll do to us?' Carl asked, releasing his grip on Daryl's arm when they were , both on their feet.

"You be a man, own up to it, I promise I'll talk to 'em—explain things." Daryl told him. "Carol n' me are going to meet with the new woman, Claire? She's a psychologist. Think you need to do that too—all you kids. Think that'll help."

Carl nodded, shouldering his bow. He bent down to pick up the rabbits that had been Daryl's excuse to get him here. Daryl leaned over to snag the scarred Stetson and put it back on Carl's head. They started walking towards the gate, slowed by Daryl's limp.

"But Carl?" Daryl said, stopping at the bench to pick up and put on his shirt, jacket and vest, "You're gonna be the one to tell your dad."

Carl nodded again, biting his lips.

"Daryl?" Carl said and looked up at his friend, "I wouldn't have let them send Carol away."

"I know, buddy." Daryl said, leaning on Carl as they passed through the gate. "I know."

* * *

_That the show never dealt with what happened to Carl during the Claimer's attack has always bothered me, just like not having Daryl be any part of the abuse story line with Sam, so this is my take on it._

_I'm heading out for vacation in a few days &amp; don't know how often I'll be able to update for the next couple of weeks. I'll do my best, so please bear with me._

_Thank you to everyone who reads &amp; those who have time to review, I love reading your thoughts &amp; comments._


	26. Chapter 26: Truth and Consequences

Carl, Enid and Ron face the results of their actions with unexpected consequences for others in the ASZ.

* * *

_**Truth and Consequences**_

_I don't have a skin like you do__  
__To keep it all in like you do__  
__I don't have a soul like you__  
__The only one I have__  
__Is the one I stole from you_

_Stay awake with me  
__You know I can't just let you be  
__Stay awake with me  
__Take your hand and come and find me  
__Stay awake with me  
__You know I can't just let you be  
__Stay awake with me  
__Take your hand and come and find me_

-"Stay Awake" by London Grammar (via meeshiefeet)

* * *

"You're not supposed to be here." Michonne said in a soft harsh voice, looking left and right for any observers before she quickly pulled Daryl inside.

A fairly heavy rain had started to fall about ten minutes ago and the swordswoman had been moving through the house making sure the windows were all closed. Wind-gusts were driving the precipitation in through the screens to wet the floors on the north side of the two story home. It was one of the unfinished ones near the open fields that had been repurposed as pastures and gardens and had been used as storage for the extra furniture and other odds and ends from the occupied houses.

Carol was in the front living room space sitting on the big plush couch, her legs curled up, reading and drinking a cup of tea, for all appearances looking like she was spending a comfortable evening at home after a long day at work. Hearing voices from the back of the house, however, had her sliding a 9mm pistol out from between the couch cushions and holding it in her hand, which she hid under the afghan over her lap.

"Michonne?" Carol called out right before the other woman returned from the back of the house.

"You have company." Michonne said as she came through the door. Carol tensed until she saw the smile on her friend's face. "Your boyfriend just couldn't stay away."

"Daryl?" Carol said, happy, but a bit exasperated, "You don't—"

"Carl confessed—he was in on it with the other two; he's with Rick and Deanna now." Daryl said without preamble.

Carol wilted with relief. She hadn't been looking forward to continuing the charade of being public enemy number one for too much longer.

"That ain't all... Ron got spooked by his chat with Deanna," he paused, swallowing and looking down at the floor before continuing, "Sam over heard him n' Enid arguing 'bout it."

"Sam?" Carol asked, starting to feel unease from Daryl's tone and the guarded look on his face.

"Glenn heard the ruckus—Sam was yellin' at the other two...arguing with them about letting you take the blame. They were on the landing...top of the stairs-Carol, he fell."

"No..." Carol went white.

"Doc's with him now at the Infirmary—Eric's waiting out back with the golf cart to take us there." Daryl said, watching Carol's face, knowing this was exactly what she'd been afraid of.

"How badly is he hurt?" Michonne asked, her voice full of concern. She liked the odd but brave little boy.

"Don't know—Doc just told us to come get Carol, that she needed her help." Daryl replied and then looked back to Carol.

Carol sat immobile on the couch, her eyes wide and almost blank; the only hint of her suppressed emotions the slight trembling of her visible hand as she pushed down the afghan to reveal the pistol she held in the other. Silently, she shook her head back and forth as she laid the gun down on the coffee table in front of her.

Daryl knew she was thinking of the other guns, the one Rick had used for Sophia, the one she had used on Lizzie, the ones she'd stolen from the Armory and threatened Sam over...

"I know you don't want to deal with the shit you got goin' on in your head over this right now, but you're gonna suck it up and come help that kid." Daryl ordered, limping closer and holding out his hand to her. _"Com'on."_

Carol blinked up at him, a brief look of anger and denial flashing over her face, but the understanding and determination she saw in _his_ made her take a deep breath and reach for his hand.

* * *

Rick stood, working hard to steady his breathing; his heart feeling like it was going to leap out of his chest, listening as Carl described everything he, Ron and Enid had done to rid the community of the Wolves who had been held captive.

Part of his brain was focused on the account his son was giving, but part was engaged in listening to the running fragments of long ago conversations going on inside his head.

"_He said what you did with Sophia was right—that he would've done it himself...your son...he's becoming hard, Rick..." Lori said, worried for their son._

"_Do it, Dad..." Carl said with relish, watching his father point a gun at a boy's head in a barn._

"_He shot that boy, Rick—I was there—Carl didn't have to; he was surrendering..."Hershel said forcefully._

"_You didn't kill Andrew when you had the chance and he killed mom... the Governor killed Axel and you were alone with him and you let him live and he killed Merle. Go finish this before he kills any more of us..." Carl dropped the seven pointed star with a tinny clank onto the pavement._

"_Do you have to like what I did? No—I don't, but at least I stepped up—I did something." Carol said with disdain._

"_None of them get to live..." Rick told the survivors of Terminus._

"_I made you a promise..." he said to Gareth and the red machete swung._

"_Do it, Rick!" Deanna ordered and he fired._

Had he done this to his son? Made him willing to kill so easily? Willing to go behind the Council's back and act to eliminate a threat? Just like Carol had done at the prison when he had stayed back from leadership? Just like they had planned to take this place if they had to? Was it his inaction, his hesitation? Or was it those times when he _had_ acted, taking out a perceived threat, Shane, Tomas, Gareth and his people at the church? Was it the mixed messages? Or was it just the fucked up world they lived in now? Where everyone had to be willing to kill to survive...

Daryl had taken Rick aside when he'd brought Carl in, telling him to go easy on him, that it went deeper than he knew, told him to go talk to the new woman, the therapist, Claire about everything that had happened since the quarry. Had it really only been two years? Two years was a lifetime ago...

"Rick?" Deanna was talking to him, "Why don't you leave Carl here while you go get Michonne for back up to bring the others in? Tell Carol thank you for her help and she can go home as well."

"I should go—talk to Ron and Enid first." Carl said, "So they don't..." he looked to his father with a very adult expression that Rick recognized, that of a concerned leader; clearly worried that his friends might get hurt trying to resist being brought in. "I don't want anybody to get hurt."

"Too late for that." Glenn said, coming onto the room followed by Maggie and Abe, escorting Enid and Ron, who had been crying.

"I need to be with Sam—_please_ Mrs. Monroe." Ron asked, looking sick, pulling against the grip Abe had on his arm.

"What happened to Sam?" Deanna asked, looking to Glenn who restrained a sullen Enid.

"He was arguing with them and fell down the stairs at the house. Rosita went for Dr. Yang and they took him to the Clinic." Maggie said, glaring at Enid and Ron.

"He wouldn't shut up..." Ron said defensively, "I told him to, but he wouldn't shut up! He said he knew we killed them-"

"_You_ need to shut up." Enid snapped, bucking against the hold Glenn had on her to lunge at Ron.

Furious, Carl moved quickly to come between the two of them.

"I told them." Carl said forcefully, pushing back on Ron's chest, _"I already told them!_ You didn't have to hurt Sam!"

"It was an accident!" Ron whimpered, his head falling to his chest. "He got in the way—we were just trying to leave!"

"They had back packs full of food and supplies." Maggie said, tossing the two full bags down on the floor in front of everyone.

"You were going over the wall?" Carl asked, incredulous. This was something they hadn't discussed with him—Enid had even sneered at the possibility of Ron being capable of surviving outside.

"What they're going to do to us isn't it?" Enid accused, half of her face hidden by her long bangs. "Don't you get it? Golden boy Carl would get off scot free because his dad is the law and we'd be made an example of."

Rick scowled and took a step towards her, but Deanna looked sorrowfully at the girl.

"If you think I would send two children who have lost almost everything but their lives, out _there_...then _you _don't get it." The ASZ leader said quietly. She turned to Maggie then and asked how Sam was doing.

"Daryl went to get Carol." Maggie said, and the shimmer in her eyes along with the way her mouth went tight as she suppressed her tears told them how bad it probably was.

* * *

"His left shoulder is out—you have experience with this, yes?" Yang asked Carol, who stood at the foot of the examining table staring down at Sam, eyes closed, pale and immobile, still in his pajamas. They had Star Wars characters on them.

"_She does." _Daryl said softly from beside her.

Carol felt Daryl's hand on her arm, squeezing it until she looked up at him. He nodded at her; just a brief reassuring bob of his head as he released her arm, but it was enough to let her move around the side of the table where she quickly helped the doctor position and manipulate the arm so the shoulder could be popped back into place. Securing it with a length of fabric made into a sling, Yang next gently rolled the boy to his side and lifted the ice pack so Carol could see the swelling knot on the back of his head and then returned him to his original position.

"Without any kind of scan I don't know if it's a simple concussion or hematoma or brain swelling—he has a slow pupil reaction on this side—Maggie said he wasn't breathing after he fell and she did CPR—but he's been awake since he got here, though very subdued." Yang explained and Carol nodded, lips pursed in concentration, taking in what she was being told about his symptoms.

"He asked for you." Daryl added quietly.

Carol looked down at the helpless child, everything in her fighting the urge to reach out and lay a comforting hand on his brow. As she watched, his eyes opened and that brow drew together in a frown.

"Miss Carol?" Sam rasped, "Are you okay? I was so worried about you."

Daryl watched the indecision war on Carol's face.

"He needs to talk—to stay awake—for a few hours until we're sure there are no neurological problems." Yang said. "Can you stay with him? Rosita already went, but I need to go too; I have to go; Felicia's having contractions—probably just Braxton-Hicks, but I want to be sure."

Carol looked trapped, glanced back at Daryl, who pulled a chair over to the head of the table and sat down, indicating that he'd stay too, and in doing so helping her decide. She nodded in agreement, not having uttered a word since she came into the Clinic.

Yang gathered her medical bag and hurried out, leaving Carol and Daryl alone with Sam. The boy looked up at Carol expectantly when she turned back to him. She reached down and tentatively brushed his sweaty bangs off of his forehead, but still didn't speak.

"How's your head feel, buddy?" Daryl asked, leaning forward in the chair to he could see Sam better.

"Hurts..." he admitted, "...but it's not the first time. My mom said thank God I got a hard head." his big blue eyes looked sadder talking about his mother, and Daryl sobered, realizing that he probably meant he'd had similar injuries from his father's hand.

Carol gave a little sharp intake of breath, drawing the boy's attention back to her.

"I'm okay—really." Sam assured her. "I'm supposed to tell you..." his voice trailed off and he looked perplexed, "The rainbow girl said..." he suddenly murmured, stunning Carol and Daryl both.

"_What?_ What did you say?" Carol asked, jarred out of her silence.

"She's in the quiet place—with my mom. She said to—the rainbow girl said I'm supposed to tell you..." Sam said, struggling to remember something.

"Sam, what do you mean about the rainbow girl? Did Carl tell you about her?" Carol accused him, angry and fearful at the same time, seeing the dirty little blue shirt her daughter had been wearing that day, the one with the curved stripes of color emblazoned across the front, her favorite.

"_Carol—"_ Daryl cautioned.

"No. Carl wasn't there." Sam shook his head in denial, but then stopped, looking a bit dizzy.

Carol looked back at Daryl in disbelief.

Daryl rose and came forward, standing slightly behind Carol so she could lean on him if she needed to.

"Just my mom and some yellow-haired girls and some nice big guys who knew Miss Carol too!" Sam continued, "I remember that boy Noah was with one of the blonde girls and they smiled a lot and one of the big guys asked about Judith and Sasha."

"Sam? You know it's not nice to make up stories." Daryl cautioned carefully, not wanting to upset him.

"I saw my mom!" Sam said adamantly. "She was happy there, but she said she missed us—me and Ron..." he looked sad again.

Carol was rigid; Daryl's arm went around her waist.

"The rainbow girl said the same thing—that she was happy, but missed—that she missed her _mom._" Sam said, a bit wistfully.

Carol turned and leaned her head onto Daryl's shoulder and he could feel the hot tears soaking into his shirt.

"_Stop..."_ Carol said, so softly Daryl almost missed it; he tightened his grip on her.

"I said I wanted to stay there with my mom," Sam continued sadly, "...but they said I had to go back."

Daryl could feel how fast Carol's heart was beating, fighting it, denying to herself the possibility that what Sam was saying was true.

"They said that you needed me to make the good outa the bad. So I came back." Sam frowned hopefully at Carol, "Is that right? Do you need me? I can help you—I know how to shoot now. I can fight." he added proudly, with a small smile at Daryl.

Hearing the words to Bob and Sasha's little game come out of Sam's mouth, something that he had no way of ever hearing before, made Carol gasp and turn to look down at him.

"Miss Carol?" Sam grunted a bit, pushing himself up into a half sitting position, leaning on his uninjured arm. "Are you okay?"

"It's not possible." Carol said, her breath hitching, her fingers digging into Daryl's side.

"Sam—do you know—do you remember—what was the rainbow girl's name?" Daryl asked hoarsely.

"Sure!" the boy said brightly, "I 'member because she said to remember it starts with the same letter as mine, and if you asked I was supposed to give you something—well, give _Miss Carol_ something."

"What is it Sam?" Daryl asked.

"I need a pencil and paper, please." Sam asked politely.

Daryl eased Carol away from him so he could grab the pen and legal pad on which Yang had been making notes on Sam's condition and hand it to the boy.

While Sam worked Daryl watched Carol struggle to hold it together. He took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together and her eyes met his, grateful for the support. Daryl leaned in and kissed her cheek and she brought her hand up to hold his face close.

"Here," Sam announced, holding out his paper.

Carol pulled back from Daryl and looked down at the paper, silently taking it from him, her hand shaking when she saw what he had drawn. She handed it to Daryl and then took the few steps forward she needed to sit on the side of the exam table and take Sam in her arms.

Daryl held the carefully rendered but child-like drawing of a white flower with five teardrop shaped petals... underneath which was written the name, _Sophia._

* * *

_AN: Sam's near death experience allowed Sophia to help Carol see she needs to let him in. (Snuck a little Boah &amp; Tyreese in there too.)_

_Thanks for reading!_

_Congratulations to MMB, AL &amp; the show for their well deserved Saturn Awards wins!  
_


	27. Chapter 27: An Undeserved Curse

Six weeks later, Daryl's return to his recruiting duties with Aaron is not all smooth sailing, while back in the ASZ, during a difficult time, Carol and Michonne find they have more in common than they knew.

Angst alert...

* * *

_**An Undeserved Curse **_

_Like a fluttering sparrow or a darting swallow,  
an undeserved curse does not come to rest. _-Proverbs 26:2

* * *

"Are you going to be like this the whole time?" Aaron asked with a sigh.

"Like _what?_" Daryl said, in his best surly but righteous snarl.

"Like _that._" Aaron chuckled, tossing down the armful of sticks he had gathered for their fire. "I know you miss her, but you haven't strung together more than two words at a time since we've been out here."

Six weeks after the Wolves' attack, fully recovered from his leg injury, Daryl had left the ASZ with Aaron three days ago on a weeklong recruiting mission.

"Unlike some people I don't feel the need to exercise my jaw for no good reason." Daryl grunted from his position crouched down, building the fire.

"How about just... simple polite conversation? Observations on the beauty of our surroundings?" Aaron asked, gesturing wide with his arms as he turned in a slow circle, looking up at the small swallowtails diving and darting, hunting gnats, midges and other sunset insects in the reddening sky.

"You feel the need to _chat_? To let every walker or other sorta asshole out here zero in on us?" Daryl snorted, looking away from the aerial acrobatics, flipping open his silver lighter to set the tinder alight.

Aaron's mouth turned down, crestfallen, but he nodded and started pulling provisions from his pack while Daryl rigged up a spit to roast the two grouse he had shot earlier in the day, which hung, plucked and gutted, covered with cheesecloth, in the low branches of the tree sheltering their campsite.

They worked in not so companionable silence, Daryl knowing he was being a bit of a shit, but he was antsy, restless in his skin, the ease he had felt out here before, alone in the woods with Aaron, missing now. He was angry at himself, angry at his inability to just pick the rhythm of this work back up after a month and a half. _His_ rhythm, his heart beat was attuned to another's now.

Daryl looked over at Aaron. Was it different for him? He'd been out twice with Morgan while Daryl had been healing up from his leg injury. He'd had more of a chance to find a safe place to put his thoughts and feelings about missing Eric, more practice at it. Daryl had always cared about Carol; cared if she was safe, cared what happened to her...but now? Now she was everything...

His daddy always said love was a curse. It was the real trick the snake played on Adam there in the garden. Let a woman seduce you into thinking that she was anything more than a place to stick your dick and you were lost. The apple Eve offered was the trap of obligation and regret—why let one woman chase you out of paradise, where every fruit was ripe for the plucking? When you started to think that you could only eat the apples from her one special tree, you might as well hand her your balls, your wings clipped for good.

Good thing he knew everything his daddy ever said was bullshit.

Carol didn't make him feel trapped or clipped; he just knew he was better _with_ her than without her that was all. Wasn't her fault she was in his head and under his skin so deep that waking up without her threw off his whole day.

* * *

"Breakfast?" she'd asked softly as they lay in their bed the morning that he'd left with Aaron, starting to roll away to get up.

Daryl answered with a snuffled "_Nah."_ against her neck, his hand closing over her hip to hold her in place. The sparrows under the eaves were tittering, greeting the morning, the lone rooster crowing accompaniment in the distance.

"Should eat something before you go." Carol insisted, smiling as his mouth opened over her throat and he pretended to take a bite out of the tender skin over her carotid. They hadn't bothered to put their sleep clothes back on after making love last night and she felt his lips skim down across her collar bone and over the swell of her breast until they found the rosy tipped peak. She groaned his name.

Well loved already, she felt over sensitive, the answering ache in her core sharp as he suckled and nipped. Her hip hitched under his hand and he slid it over and down, petting through the curls that covered her mound until she let her legs fall open, welcoming the touch of his rough skinned fingers.

"Sore?" he asked, lifting his mouth from her breast to look at her, noting the small crease between her brows deepen as he gently pressed in through her silkened folds, worried he'd been too rough with her last night. She'd met his passion, their impending separation making them more desperate, spurring them both on to faster, harder, less controlled.

They'd left their marks on each other: new scratches on his back and a curved row of fingertip shaped bruises on the pale freckled flesh of her ass where he'd gripped her tightly as she rode him relentlessly to completion.

"A bit." Carol allowed, reaching down to push his hair back off his forehead. He'd let her trim his bangs back a little last night when she'd fretted over it blocking his sight lines, but it was still long and shaggy in the back. She'd teased him about having Eugene as a style icon and he'd threatened her with dire consequences if she mulletized him.

Daryl nodded and let his fingers fall away from her. Her moue of protest was cut short when he slid down her body, planting a wet kiss on her belly, easing her thighs apart.

"_Daryl..."_ Carol sighed as he settled in between them, positioning her the way he needed.

"_Said I should eat somethin' before I go."_ Daryl drawled and then put his soft strong tongue to work.

Carol rolled her eyes at him, and then giggled until he gave her reason to sigh and cry out instead.

* * *

"You're smiling—does that mean you're in a better mood with your belly full?" Aaron asked Daryl quietly, looking up from his place across the fire, where he sat writing in his journal.

Daryl frowned back and grunted non-committally, flicking the ashes off his smoke, watching the perimeter for any signs of movement as he sucked in another lung full, his cheeks going hollow.

"You think I don't miss him just as much?" Aaron clicked his pen and his journal closed and put them back in his bag, staring at the archer.

Daryl shifted his weight onto his other hip and blew out a long cloudy diagonal exhalation.

"They're why we're out here." Aaron continued, "So we can protect them and find others who will help us make Alexandria a better place for all of us. For our _families_."

Daryl's head came around at that.

Sam was as good as theirs now, his and Carol's. He'd stayed with them while he healed up from his injuries so she could nurse him. With Ron in detention along with Carl and Enid spending their days working with the rehab crew, preparing the unfinished houses for new tenants half the day and going to school the rest, with nights in lock down, Sam couldn't stay with his brother.

When Deanna had given him the choice of where he wanted to live, Sam had asked if he could remain with them. After they'd all spoken with Claire, she'd given her approval of the arrangement.

Daryl's own worries about whether he was capable of being anything close to an appropriate guardian somewhat calmed when the therapist said her talks with Sam and also Carl had shown how much his understanding and advice had benefitted the boys.

Somehow, before he'd even fully acknowledged it, he had a woman he loved and a kid who looked up to him. Daddy Daryl...Merle must be laughing his ass off, whichever direction he'd ended up.

* * *

"Hey Carol? You okay?"Michonne asked softly, knocking on the bathroom door again. The low flow toilet flushing loudly put an exclamation point on the sound of retching that had drawn the dreadlocked woman to the door in the first place. Water running in the sink, soft splashing and the sink drain opening followed.

There was no response to Michonne's question, but the door came open and a pale shaky looking Carol stood on the other side, the hair framing her forehead and cheeks wet, as if she'd just rinsed off her face. She had one of Daryl's long sleeved plaid flannel shirts on like a bathrobe over her sleepwear of a tank top and shorts.

"How long?" Michonne asked sympathetically.

"It's not that." Carol said dismissively, pushing past her.

"You sure?" Michonne questioned skeptically. "You haven't been using anything from the supply under the sink for the last two months." She'd kept track, unwilling to run out of the jealously hoarded modern feminine conveniences after living without them on the road.

"Ever hear of a little thing called menopause?" Carol said as she continued down the hall to her and Daryl's room, Michonne trailing behind.

"Menopause make you puke your guts out?" Michonne snorted.

"Eating canned goods with iffy expiration dates does." Carol said matter of factly, and pulled a red pullover shirt, bra, panties and cargoes out of the requisite drawers in her bureau and tossed them on the bed. She waited for the other woman to take the hint and leave, but Michonne just leaned against the door frame, making herself comfortable to continue the conversation.

"We _all _ate that tuna casserole, Carol." Michonne said, not buying the excuse. "And somehow none of the rest of us got sick."

"Must've been something else then." Carol said, turning to face away from the other woman and take off the flannel over shirt, trying to change quickly, but Michonne came into the room and took hold of her arm, stopping her and turning Carol back to face her.

"He'll know." Michonne sighed as she took in the barely perceptible soft swell of Carol's abdomen, noticeable only because of how thin she had become again. "When he gets back—he'll see."

"No." Carol said quietly, "He won't." her eyes sad but resolute.

Michonne took her meaning and released her arm.

"Your body, your choice." she agreed, but then had to ask, knowing she was overstepping, "But...can I ask why? You're in as safe a place as you can get these days, you're with a man who clearly loves you, and we have a real live doctor, plenty of food, a good support system..."

"All of which can vanish in the blink of an eye." Carol said, moving to the bed to continue undressing, pulling her tank to off over her head. Despite her thin frame, her breasts were already fuller as well. She quickly pulled on her bra, wincing from the increased sensitivity.

"And then what?" Carol asked. "Watch the man I love die trying to protect a woman stupid enough to get knocked up in the apocalypse?"

"So you're not even going to tell him." Michonne said, keeping her voice as even as possible.

"You can't miss what you never had." Carol reasoned, her voice neutral, but as she reached down to push off her shorts, her hands brushed over her belly and she faltered back, sitting down hard on the bed, her mouth open, tears filling her eyes. She looked up at Michonne in absolute misery.

"_It's all right..." _Michonne moved quickly to her side, sitting down next to her on the bed and putting her arm around Carol's shoulders. Carol turned into the embrace and Michonne held her tightly, trying to lend some of her strength.

"_I can't do this...I can't lose another...I can't..."_ Carol whispered against the other woman's shoulder.

"I know." Michonne soothed, "I know."

"What would you do? If it was you?" Carol asked, pulling away so she could look into Michonne's eyes.

"After my little boy was gone, I never thought I could take another child into my heart..." Michonne said quietly.

"But you did." Carol had always wondered if Michonne had a child before the Turn—the way she'd bonded with Carl and cared for Judith after they'd all been reunited after Terminus, when she couldn't use her search for the Governor as an excuse to distance herself from them anymore—spoke of a familiarity with motherhood.

"So did you. Even after...Andrea told me what happened to your daughter...you still took on those girls...and after them, now Sam." Michonne reminded her.

Carol thought about the boy. Sam had been adamant about meeting Sophia and the message that she'd sent, even though he'd had no idea what it had meant to both she and Daryl. Carol supposed he could've heard about her daughter and the others he said he saw from one of their original group, but the significance of the Cherokee Rose was something only she and Daryl ever knew.

"How old was your son?" Carol asked, taking Michonne's hand in hers while wiping at her eyes with the other.

"I was blessed with Andre for three years." Michonne answered; her smile broad and bittersweet with memory.

Carol smiled back and squeezed her hand in empathy.

"How old was your daughter?"

"Twelve." Carol said, "It happened near the start...of all this...if I hadn't had Andrea, Lori...Daryl..."

"I lost myself for awhile." Michonne sighed, "Was alone too long. Andrea saved me too."

Michonne leaned in and they rested the sides of their heads against one another as they thought about their mutual friend and all she had meant to them.

"So is this a blessing or a curse?" Michonne asked, "This baby?"

Carol sat up straighter. She hadn't let herself call it that yet, that tiny fluttering of life inside her...

"Will you come with me? To see the doctor?" Carol asked, realizing she didn't want to face this alone.

"Of course." Michonne answered, her brow knit in concern, reaching out to rub careful circles on Carol's back.

"Thank you." Carol said softly, more grateful than she could say.

* * *

AN: Trust me.

As I went back and watched S2, I was struck by how much support Andrea, Lori (&amp; of course Daryl in his lovely awkward way) gave to Carol while Sophia was missing. They were constantly embracing her and offering hopeful words. Michonne has that same empathetic ability.

I want Michonne and Carol to actually talk to one another about important things on the show! After all they have been through together, we have never really seen that a deeper friendship exists between them. It seems to be ignored in order to give us the fan baiting "almost" Richonne &amp; Caryl moments.


	28. Ch28:Not everything that is faced

_Overdue recruiters, outside forces and interior secrets complicate the lives of the residents of the ASZ. _

* * *

"_**Not everything that is faced can be changed..."**_

_"Not everything that is faced can be changed; but nothing can be changed until it is faced."_ —James Baldwin

* * *

"How long do we wait?" Glenn asked.

"Standard protocol for recruiters is three days after they were due back." Eric replied. "Sometimes you run into things—a herd—have to hold up until they pass..." he shrugged. "Sometimes negotiations with potentials take a bit longer than you want..."

They both had been out there on runs that had gone fubar in the past, runs where hostile humans could be as deadly as any herd; whether walkers rained down out of the sky or your own people panicked and fled, mayhem and death were the same result.

"You worried?" Glenn asked, but his eyes went to Carol, who stood near the gate to the outside with Michonne, as she had done the last three dusks since; just as Eric had, waiting to greet the men who had been due back two days ago.

Carol was back to wearing her boots, cargo pants and Henley shirts, looking like the capable woman who'd run the prison, but had taken to wearing one of Daryl's oversize long-sleeved flannels, ostensibly as an extra layer against the early November chill, but it was the one he'd worn the day before he'd left and his smell, that mix of motor oil, pine smoke, and just _Daryl_ clung to it. Michonne, who never seemed to get cold, was in her crisp constable's uniform, her katana slung over her shoulder.

"They know how to handle themselves out there." Eric said, a note of assurance in his voice that Glenn knew was forced.

The recruiters weren't supposed to have gone out so far that neither the walkies nor the CB in the car could be raised. If the tech was out on both or they had been forced beyond their search grid, finding them would be that much more difficult.

The fact that Aaron and Daryl could be dead or worse was left unsaid.

"I'd send Michonne and Morgan," Glenn said, pushing his long bangs back off of his forehead. In charge of setting up supply runs, it was his job to know the strengths and weaknesses of everyone in the Zone and he worked closely with the rest of the Council on knowing them and staying updated on the needs of the community.

"You sure?" Eric asked, knowing their choices were limited. Everyone was working round the clock to shore up their defenses, prepare new living spaces; including extending the wall and securing enough provisions for the winter that was almost upon them.

"Best trackers other than Daryl we have." Glenn replied. "Both handy with quiet weapons; Michonne scouted with Daryl before and Morgan with Aaron—they know their patterns, ways of getting things done."

Deanna and Rick arrived, stopping first to greet Carol and Michonne, the ASZ leader much more cordial with the other women than Rick was. The constable was still working on repairing his friendship with Carol after accusing her in the Wolves' deaths and things between he and Michonne had been just _off_ for the last week as the two women spent more time together than usual.

"Anything?" Rick asked as he and Deanna came closer and stopped in front of Glenn and Eric. Glenn shook his head no and Deanna sighed.

"Tomorrow then." Deanna said. "I was thinking...Michonne..."

Rick stiffened visibly and his eyes flashed to the woman in question and then quickly back to Deanna.

"If Rick can spare our other constable for a few days?" Deanna continued, making it a question when he saw Rick's hesitation.

"No one should go out there alone." Rick protested, frowning.

"I agree—what do you say, Glenn? You're good out there." Deanna asked the strategist.

"I'll go if you want, but Morgan's a better tracker." Glenn said, calmly shaking his head. "That's what you'll need."

Rick bristled. It was clear that the thought of Morgan accompanying Michonne didn't sit well with him, but he couldn't argue Glenn's logic. He finally nodded his head in agreement.

"Good." Deanna said, giving a small satisfied smile.

"We got movement." the walkie on Glenn's belt buzzed to life with Sasha's quiet voice.

"Walkers?" Glenn radioed back.

"No—Aaron's car." Sasha replied and Eric's face broke into a hopeful smile, moving towards the gate.

"What about Daryl's bike?" Carol said, as she and Michonne quickly came to stand beside Glenn.

"Sasha did you copy that? No bike?" Glenn asked.

"No—just the car." Sasha said, her voice laced with concern.

"That could explain their delay—if the bike was out of commission or Daryl had an accident—" Eric said but at the stricken expression on Carol's face, which she quickly masked, he looked apologetic. "I'll get the gate..." and then he started to move even closer towards the entrance.

"No—_wait_." Carol said suddenly and they all paused and looked at her. "Did they signal?" she asked Glenn.

"Sasha—did they give the signal?" Glenn asked into the walkie.

Returns from patrols and runs were vulnerable times. The wall protected them only in so far as it stayed locked down tight. Opening the gate for the wrong person could be disastrous. A series of long and short flicks of headlights or a flashlight were the coded entry signal, changed weekly, memorized by anyone going outside the walls. Without visual conformation of identity, seeing that signal or one of the distress signs instead, the gate stayed closed.

"Negative, no signal given." Sasha replied tersely.

"_Fuck."_ Glenn said softly in frustration.

"_Rick."_ Deanna said, and he pulled his Colt out of his holster in response and started for the stairs to the observation deck, the ramparts that had been built on either side of the wall gate after the Wolves' attack. He was followed by Glenn, Michonne, Deanna, Carol and Eric after they all armed themselves with the rifles in the lock box at the gate.

"Attention-general alert—this is not a drill, everyone to their stations. Possible intruders at main gates." Glenn talked as he walked, sending out the all points bulletin which meant kids and other vulnerable people should immediately head to the basement safe houses and all others to arms.

"Get out of the car!" Rick yelled down at the driver, training his weapon on the car and the driver's side doors slowly opened. A woman and three burly men got out, the men all brandishing heavy duty automatic weapons; all with a "W" carved into their foreheads.

"I'd like to speak to the bitch that runs this place, if that's still Deanna Monroe, if not, whichever other bitch is in charge now." the woman yelled back. She was tall, thin with raven hair streaked with white at her temples. Dressed in punk-Goth black clothing, including body armor, her forehead scar was more elaborate than the others, two additional lines as serifs at the top of each diagonal line forming the 'W'.

"And you are?" Deanna asked, imperious and cold, sighting her through the scope of the wood stocked Remington she used to hunt ducks with in another life.

"Exactly who you think I am." the Goth woman said matter-of-factly, leaning languidly back on the car's fender and smiling. "My name is Circe, Lupus Regina."

"What do you want?" Deanna asked.

"Well, not my mate, since you fucking killed him." Circe said, "I came to make a trade."

"A _trade_?" Rick interjected angrily, but Michonne bumped her hip into his and hissed his name.

"Now now, that'll do, pig." the she-Wolf said admonishingly to Rick, sounding amused, then she focused on Deanna."You have some lost lambs we happened to run across."

"How do we know you even have them?" Deanna asked.

"Got their car." Circe shrugged over at the rusty red sedan and then looked sly. "Oh—and how could I forget?" she giggled and made a show of slapping her forehead.

At her hand signal the Wolf standing guard next to the left front of the car turned to reach into its interior. He was wearing Daryl's vest and pulled out Daryl's bow. With a self-satisfied pout the woman pulled Daryl's sunglasses out of her jacket pocket and slipped them on.

Eric was standing behind Carol. His hand on her back was the only thing that kept her from firing her rifle, which was trained on Circe's head.

"Have to give him props; he used every bolt in his quiver and then started swinging the thing like a club." the Wolf woman said, pushing the glasses up over her forehead until they held her hair back like a headband. "Took out at least a dozen geeks and three of my men all by himself, but once we snared the other one and started to have a little fun with him, the Archer came flying in for a rescue."

Deanna looked over to Carol and Eric, gauging their reactions, striving to show them by example they need to stay in control. She was relieved to see they were; and were far less agitated looking than her chief constable.

"Give us the ones responsible for the murders of the Lupus Dei and members of our pack and you get your sheep back alive... mostly..." Circe said with a sardonic chuckle.

"If they've been harmed..." Rick said threateningly, but the Wolf woman broke into a raucous cackle at that.

"_Of course_ they've been harmed—they are prey that fought back—they are not yet dead and walking. Nothing our missing medic can't take care of if we get her to them... _soon._ She'll be coming with us now." she added in a 'by the way' tone.

"Doctor Yang isn't part of this discussion." Deanna said coldly.

"So which one of them do you think has the worst wounds?" the new leader of the Wolves mused. "The inked up Archer with the delicious scars or the pretty one with the lamb soft curls and bedroom eyes?"

Carol swayed. She bit down hard on her lower lip to make the dizziness stop, forcing focus on what was being said, try to come up with a way to take the Wolves down without any harm coming to their people.

Eric's hand twisted and tightened in the soft flannel on the back of Carol's shirt.

"Wait too long and they might both die." Circe shrugged. She looked behind her briefly, indicating she knew that Sasha was in the church bell tower. "Kill us and they _definitely _will."

"I have to discuss this with my people." Deanna said.

"I'll give you fifteen minutes to get Yang and the fucker who killed _my people_ out here." Circe countered, "If they're not, we're gone and so is your chance of getting anyof _your_ _people_ back."

"The man who killed them—Nicholas—he's dead." Deanna lied flatly. "He acted without authority and was caught in the fire that destroyed their jail. The fire _he_ set to take them out."

"You're lying." the Wolf leader spit out. "And now you have fourteen minutes."

The group quickly climbed down from the ramparts, leaving Sasha to guard the Wolves.

"Deanna, please." Eric hissed, looking over at her. "Send for Erin."

"You can't send her back to those people." Michonne argued, quietly incredulous. "You _know_ what they'll do to her!"

"What they're doing to Aaron and Daryl right now!" Eric said harshly, looking to Carol for back up, but she stared at the ground, deep in thought.

"He's right—we can't just abandon them." Rick said, his voice low and harsh.

"Since Nicholas is dead, who do you suggest we give them in exchange?" Deanna asked pointedly.

The thought of turning over the three teens was something none of them wanted to consider.

"Me." Carol said, handing her gun to Rick. "If I go I can take Erin's place too—they need a medic—and I can make sure Daryl and Aaron are alright."

"Carol! _No!_" Michonne said, shocked. _"You can't!"_

"Michonne _don't_." Carol said in warning.

"We're not letting you sacrifice yourself—you know Daryl would never want you to do this." Eric said, agreeing with Michonne.

"It's not his decision." Carol shook her head at him. "It's mine." she looked to Glenn whose gentle face was racked with pain, showing how much he wanted to deny what she was proposing as well, but understanding her reasoning.

"Glenn, run to the Infirmary and grab one of the big triage backpacks for me—make sure it has a suture kit—I don't know what I'll be dealing with." Carol ordered.

"Carol—you're _not_ doing this!" Michonne said again, this time even more forcefully, grabbing a hold of her right upper arm.

"Glenn—move—we don't have much time!" Carol said urgently, trying to pull her arm out of Michonne's strong grip.

Glenn looked back and forth between Carol, Rick, Michonne and Deanna, unsure of what he should do.

"Glenn, go. Bring the pack _and_ Erin." Deanna finally ordered.

"_No!"_ Carol exclaimed. "Felicia is due any day, the baby's breech and she'll probably need a caesarian—we can't give them our only doctor!"

"I'll give her the courtesy of letting her make that decision for herself." Deanna shot back, echoing Carol's words back at her. "Go—_now_." Deanna repeated her order to Glenn and he took off at a run.

"Carol, I know you'd do anything for us..." Michonne began, but the words were too similar to what Rick had said to her back at the prison, making Carol's temper flare.

"I'm the only logical choice." Carol interrupted adamantly. "You know I can handle myself—the Wolves will underestimate me. I can get them out of there."

"You can't be serious!" Rick said. "This isn't Terminus, Carol—there's no element of surprise."

"And so we give them Carl? Enid? Ron?" Carol asked. "I don't see a better alternative."

Michonne was shaking her head vehemently.

"I'm sorry, Carol." the swordswoman said, and for a moment no one knew what she was apologizing for. She placed her free hand over Carol's abdomen, pushing against the flannel to show the visible rounded curve. "But it's not just _your_ life that you'll be risking."

The look of betrayal that froze Carol's face was painful. She fought Michonne's grip on her arm again and this time the other woman released her hold.

"Carol?" Deanna asked softly, her eyebrows raised in uncertainty.

"You're _pregnant_?" Rick whispered and then found himself grinning, imagining how Daryl would greet the news, and then his face dissolved into bleakness at the very real possibility that for one reason or another, his friend would never see this child.

"It doesn't matter." Carol said in flat anger.

"Are you alright?" Eric asked her. "You've seen Erin?"

Carol unwillingly looked at Michonne, who had gone with her first to see Yang to confirm what she already knew from the home test she'd taken and then to Claire to talk over her choices. In the end despite all of the reasons not to go through with it, she found herself unable to let go of something that was a part of both Daryl and her, something that their love had created despite all the odds against it.

That it would change the way she could live her life, limit the risks she could take, was something she hadn't wanted to acknowledge so soon.

"I'm fine." Carol said. "It's still early."

"How far along?" Deanna asked, but Carol just shook her head and turned away, crossing her arms across her chest; done talking about it.

Before Michonne could answer, Glenn returned with Erin in tow. The doctor was wearing the back pack with the Red Cross, same as the day she'd arrived.

"About eight weeks." Erin answered, half out of breath, and then spilled the rest. "The baby is small but seems okay—Carol's anemic and underweight though...she needs to stop working ten hour shifts and stay off her feet. Under no circumstances should she be swaning off on some half-assed rescue mission!"

Glenn had filled her in on Carol's plan on the way and Yang had given it a rousing vote of _"Hell no!"_

The young Korean, who had known Daryl and Carol from the start, and who loved them both dearly, tentatively walked up to Carol and gently put a hand on her shoulder. They slowly melted together into a comforting hug.

"_Time's up, queen bitch!"_ the loud cat call came from the other side of the gate.

"What's the plan, Deanna?" Rick asked, and all of their attention focused on their leader.

"We get them back." Deanna said with matter of fact forcefulness. She handed her rifle to Rick and without further discussion, started back up the steps to the ramparts. the rest of the group had no choice but to follow.

"You have our medic?" Circe asked.

Yang stepped into view and Circe smiled smugly.

"As I said before, she is not part of these negotiations." Deanna said. "Dr. Yang is a member of this community now and has all of the protections and rights that entails. As a mission of mercy, however, she has agreed to go with you to see to our people's wounds and accompany them back here. If you have any others who need medical care she will be willing to treat them as well before her _return_."

Circe stared up at the ASZ leader calculatingly; her head cocked to one side, trying to decide how to proceed. Her suppressed anger was clear from the bright spots of color on her cheeks, but Yang's defection was not the main issue. The risks they had taken in capturing Daryl and Eric, the men she had lost in the process, were all in the cause of _revenge_ for the deaths these sheep had cost her pack.

"If we agree, you'll give us the killer?" the Lupus Regina asked. "Free and clear to carry out the sentence we deem fit?"

"I'm the leader of this community." Deanna said with great dignity. "Whatever happens within its wall is ultimately my responsibility. I sent Davidson away. What happened afterwards is on me."

Everyone stared at her with varying degrees of shock—what was she saying?

"You admit you ordered their deaths, then?" Circe sneered.

"No. I did not." Deanna said as if she was lecturing to a very slow child or stubborn member of the other party on the Senate floor. "The Council was still debating what to do with them. We'd used non-lethal measures to capture them. We _wanted_ to come to a peaceful solution. Nicholas acted out of _fear_, not reason, as the weak often do."

Circe looked at first confused and then even angrier as she understood the implication.

"I didn't come here for a fucking philosophy lecture!" The Wolf woman screamed pulling a 9mm pistol out of the holster at her hip and pointing it at Deanna. "I have the power here! I have the strength! Not you!"

Everyone on the wall immediately trained their weapons on to Circe while her minions covered the tower and the wall.

"That would be much too quick an end to me, wouldn't it?" Deanna asked evenly. "Animals like you and Davidson like to take their revenge slowly."

"You got a pair on you, bitch." Circe's eyes narrowed in respect and then she smiled, lowering her gun. "Say your goodbyes, then."

"_Deanna..."_ Rick said, shaking his head in denial.

"I'll go get Spencer." Glenn offered, knowing she would want to say goodbye to her remaining son.

"There's no time. Just tell him I have Reg's heart," Deanna said quietly, holding onto the heart shaped pendant she wore, her dark eyes warm and intense. "I'll be fine. This is the only choice I can make."

It was either this or the lives of three children or some other innocent. She was the leader; she accepted the blame, she was the shepherd willing to lay down her life for the sheep.

Next she reached for Carol's hand and smiled at her as she clasped it tightly.

"Does he know?" Deanna asked.

Through her tears Carol shook her head no.

"I'll only tell him if I think it will help." Deanna assured her. She meant if she thought Daryl was giving up hope or acted ready to sacrifice himself.

"We'll get you all back." Eric said fiercely and Deanna took Eric's hand as well. After a bracing grip she released them both and her right hand went to her pendant again. She looked hard at Michonne and Rick.

"_Tell Spencer."_ she said again forcefully and with a nod at Erin, the women started down the stairs to the gate.

* * *

Note: "Lupus Regina" means Wolf Queen.

Bittersweet-a little Daryl &amp; Aaron angst, a little Caryl baby fic...

Thanks for reading!


	29. Chapter 29: Homo homini lupus est

Aaron and Daryl do their best to survive their captivity, as do Erin and Deanna, while Rick has to break the news of his mother's brave sacrifice to Spencer.

Trigger Warning: References to sexual assault, torture and its aftermath.

This is a rough one, guys.

* * *

"_**Homo homini lupus est**_._**"**_

_**Homo homini lupus est**_ _is a __Latin proverb __meaning "Man is wolf to man." The wolf as a creature is thought, in this example, to have qualities of being predatory, cruel, and inhuman._

* * *

The door to their cage opened and a body came hurtling through the opening, landing in a heap on the cold hard floor. Raucous laughter, crude insults and kissing noises followed him in, along with lewd promises to return for the next round soon.

Breathing hard, Daryl spit blood onto the dirt to keep from choking on it. It was flowing down the back of his throat and over his lips from the broken nose he'd been gifted with for his resistance. The young woman dressed in a tattered nightgown kneeling across from him was weeping; her body crouched inward, protectively, over her abdomen, almost every inch of skin visible on her ravaged body covered in bruises in a rainbow of blues to yellows.

An older woman beside her sat stoically, wearing only an oversized man's dress shirt that may have been white once upon a time, looking at neither of them, mumbling something to herself over and over. Her reddish blonde hair had been crudely shorn leaving it in uneven tufts and bald spots, which she periodically tugged at and sighed.

"_Here."_ Aaron said quietly, kneeling down and handing Daryl a piece of cloth—part of the shirt that had been ripped from his back earlier—that he had wet in the single bucket of water that they had been given for both their drinking and washing.

Daryl tipped his head back and held the lukewarm cloth to his nose gingerly.

"Broken?" Aaron asked and Daryl grunted out an affirmative that became a choking cough and then a groan of pain forced him to hold his free hand to his side. Like the other, the ligature mark where the rope with which he'd been tied was raw and bruised around the circumference of his wrist.

"Ribs too?" Aaron asked, thinking that perhaps he could tear and knot together some longer strips from his shirt to bind them. He leaned closer, reaching out to examine Daryl's side but his friend flinched back in a violent reflex to avoid the contact. That unbalanced him and he fell backwards, rolling himself into a ball, in much the same way as the girl had done. It was then that Aaron saw the bright red blood soaking through the seat of his tattered khakis.

"_Oh fuck...oh shit, Daryl..."_ Aaron said hoarsely, his gorge rising, acid burning his throat.

They'd come for the girl, the young blonde covered in bruises cowering in the corner. Daryl and Aaron had stopped them, protecting her, getting in a few good licks before the big Wolf, the one with the cattle prod, had stunned them both into unconsciousness. When he'd come around, Daryl had been gone and the girl was practically catatonic.

"I'm so sorry...this is my fault..." Aaron muttered, awash in an agony of guilt. Daryl had gotten away—he had fought off the walkers and Wolves surrounding him—but Aaron hadn't. Too slow to react, he'd been taken. Daryl had come back for him and had been captured in the process.

"_Ain't..."_ Daryl said, slowly uncurling until he was able to look up at Aaron through slitted eyes that would be surrounded by black in a few hours as the blood from his broken nose pooled there under the skin. His sweat soaked hair hung in heavy hanks partially obscuring his face, masking more of the bruising over his cheekbones and catching on the drying blood in places.

"What those animals _did_—" Aaron choked out, furious tears spilling over at the violation...the thought of Daryl being forced to relive his worst nightmares from his childhood.

"Better me than her...or you..." Daryl said flatly, "Know I can take it..." but then a shudder went through him and his face went even paler and his eyes drifted shut and he seemed to black out.

Aaron scooted closer and pulled Daryl's upper body into his arms, holding him, waiting for him to rouse, but realizing he needed to stop the bleeding and it would be easier to do if his friend was still unconscious.

He decided to try examining the nose first and gently lay Daryl down on his side so he could carefully press his fingers on either side until he found the break and then with a quick jerk, snapped it back into place. Replacing the wet cloth he tilted Daryl's head back and pressed in, noting that the blood flow out of the nostrils was almost stopped. The gory trail down into his moustache and scraggle of a beard coagulated in thick crimson clots, which Aaron wiped at with the cloth.

"_Hurts..."_ Daryl whimpered and his eyes fluttered open briefly, trying to focus on Aaron's face. His voice was higher pitched, confused and plaintive, _"Why's he hurtin' me? I'll be good...promise..."_ and then he wept with the anguish of a heart broken child.

"_Oh God."_ Aaron exhaled, _"Daryl—"_ but the other man's face went slack again, his head lolling forward, his body going limp.

A sudden movement to his side caused Aaron to startle back protectively, putting his body between whoever was moving and Daryl. It was the older woman, holding out some leaves and a small towel that she'd wet in the bucket.

"It's mint." she said, gesturing with the towel, "You should pack it where they hurt him." She proffered the fragrant bunch of herbs. "When the bleeding stops use these. It'll help with the pain and it's good against infection. Usually they let you rest up for a day or two until the next time." she shrugged.

"Thank you."Aaron accepted the towel with a nod. "I'm Aaron and he's—"

"Daryl. I heard you. Do you want help with him?" she asked, shifting closer.

Nodding again, grateful for the help, Aaron reached for the waist of Daryl's pants so he could lower them to examine the damage Daryl's attackers had done, but stopped, knowing how private a person the Archer was. At his hesitation the woman seemed wearily amused.

"Doubt he's got anything I haven't seen before." she said, thinking it was her sensibilities of which Aaron was leery.

With a grim smile and slight nod, Aaron undid the fly of Daryl's pants and lowered them along with his underwear to his upper thighs and turned him so he could continue his exam. The tortured scratches, welts and bite marks on the pale muscled flesh of his buttocks made Aaron grimace in sympathy.

"I didn't know men could be raped too..." the woman said in a flat voice. "Not til I came here...they go at anyone...two at a time...sometimes...one after another...fuck people to death...or 'til you wish you were dead. They don't see us as human, call us cattle, sheep, but _they're_ not human..."

"No, they're not." Aaron agreed with a deep sigh. He'd known that from what they'd seen on their previous scouting trips; what they'd learned from Erin. He'd had no wish to experience it for himself, but they couldn't live in fear, so he kept going out beyond the wall.

Aaron gently worked to clean Daryl's wounds as best as he could, whispering reassurances softly to the other man even though he probably couldn't hear them and then placed a light kiss on his forehead before he moved slightly away to start ripping the terry cloth into several long strips which he rolled to make a compress.

"He yours?" the woman asked, curious at the apparent intimacy between the two men.

"He's my friend." Aaron said, shaking his head. "I was just reminding him Carol will kick my ass if he dies so he'd better not. He's _hers_."

"You really think he'll ever see her again?" the woman asked, again sounding only mildly curious.

"I have to." Aaron said, picturing Eric standing next to Carol with his arm around her as the gates opened and Daryl roared through on his bike, all of them aware of the risks. "How long have you been here?" Aaron then asked, wondering how long they'd have.

"Don't know. Doesn't do any good. Better not to know." The woman shrugged, indicating she had no way to keep track of the days.

"But you helped us—you must have some hope left." Aaron stared up at her with concern.

"We had a medic, she taught us about the mint, but they took her out on a run and she never came back." the woman said.

"Erin?" Aaron asked.

"You know her?" the woman asked, while crushing the mint leaves into one of the strips of towel with the heel of her hand and handing it to Aaron.

"I do—she's in our...back where we came from." Aaron said, knowing that meant the woman had been here almost two months, before the Wolves' attempt to take the ASZ.

"Is it a safe place?"

"Yes, as safe as anything can be these days." Aaron told her.

"Then you should've stayed _there,_ shouldn't you?" the woman said, with dry sarcasm.

"They'll come for us...our people." Aaron said with assurance, checking to see if the blood had stopped enough and then packing the area with the cooling antiseptic herb infused towel. Daryl moaned softly but didn't rouse. Aaron pulled Daryl's briefs and trousers back up, wishing they could spare the water to wash away the soaked-in blood that would stain them. He left the fly unfastened in front, knowing that he'd have to check the injuries again after a bit.

"You'll be dead before they do." the woman disagreed.

"No—they need us alive." Aaron disagreed. He'd heard that distinctly when they'd brought Daryl back. They men were allowed to have their fun, but were not allowed to kill the new meat: the Wolf Queen had plans for them.

"Gonna do his ribs too?" the woman asked. "The way they string you up by your wrists and pound on you like Rocky in the slaughterhouse...probably cracked or broke...might puncture a lung if you don't."

Sickened at the image she conjured, Aaron nodded and she started making the longer strips needed to bind around Daryl's chest. Aaron leaned in to examine Daryl's upper body, sighing sadly at the ugly bruises blooming there.

"Would your people want us? Do they take people in?" the woman asked suddenly.

"Of course..." Aaron looked over at her and smiled his best friendly recruiter smile which looked out of place on his battered face. Maybe she did still have hope buried in there somewhere.

"_Brianna."_ the woman told him, "I'm Brianna and that's Riley...my sister...thank you...thank you both for trying to help us..."

"It's what we do_._" Aaron said, looking down at Daryl, whose brow had smoothed out and now seemed to be resting more comfortably.

Where Dixon's head would be when he woke up was an open question.

* * *

"It's not here." Erin said, her voice slightly muffled and soft.

"Damn it—I was afraid this car was too old to have it." Deanna whispered back, sounding frustrated. She'd helped sponsor legislation to have emergency release latches built into car trunks to prevent just what the Wolves had done to transport their captives away from the ASZ, despite Rick's protests. Erin had used her mouth to feel along the inside of the trunk since their ankles were tied and arms bound at the wrist behind their backs.

"It was a good thought. Keep having those and we may get out of this yet." Erin said encouragingly.

"I do admire your ability to see the gold amongst the shit." Deanna said, somewhat dryly, shifting her body to try and ease the pain of being in the same position for so long. In the dark of the trunk the few bullet holes that allowed air in showed them that it was still day light, but that was the only indication of time that they had.

"I've just been here before." Yang said matter of factly. "The first time they took me they locked me in a car trunk for three days...no water, summer heat...The other woman I was with died and turned. Luckily we were in here head to toe just like this and I kicked her nose up into her brain before she got her teeth into me. Knowledge of anatomy comes in handy at times like that."

"Good to know." Deanna agreed in a slightly off sounding monotone. "When the time comes I'd like it to be just as quick, but I doubt that will win Daryl and Aaron's release."

"Do you know much about torture, Deanna?" Erin asked conversationally.

The ASZ leader wasn't sure how to respond to that at first.

"I mean, you're a well read government official—you've been briefed on rendition, Abu Grav, extreme interrogation techniques? Water-boarding?" Erin continued.

"Yes." Deanna said slowly.

"Well, I lived it." Erin said quickly.

"When you were held by the Wolves? Before?" Deanna asked, a bit confused. "I thought you were under Davidson's protection."

"Not the Wolves. Before the Turn. In Iraq." Erin said.

"You were...? You did...?" Deanna stuttered. still unsure of what Erin was telling her.

"Geneva Convention requires a doctor to be present during all interrogations."Erin said and then paused to let that statement settle. "The goal was to extract information that would save the lives of our troops and civilians. The end justified the means...that's what we told ourselves whenever the ethics of the situation were questioned..."

Deanna gave a little snort. Tricky ugly ethical questions were all she'd been dealing with since the world fell apart.

"But these...these Wolves...they're not after information." Erin finally said.

"_Homo homini lupus est."_ Deanna said. "If I remember my college Latin. "

"Man is wolf to man..." Erin translated, "But real wolves don't kill for fun...these animals will hurt you...they'll make it last...and they will _get off on it."_

"Then let's hope our people find us sooner rather than later." Deanna said with remarkable optimism.

"_Find us?_ You saw they'd ripped the GPS and the CB out of the car." Erin said. "Even the best tracker can't follow a car on pavement, Deanna."

"They'll find us. Keep working." Deanna said, feeling the silver heart pendant she wore, now all she had left from her love, her Reg, press against her breast as she shifted, trying again to work at loosening her fellow captive's bonds, finding the knot of the rope around Erin's ankles with her teeth.

* * *

"You just let her _go_?" Spencer yelled, anger and desperation making everyone looking on wince in sympathy.

Carol, Michonne and Eric had accompanied Rick on his mission to tell the last Monroe what his mother had done.

"She was determined, son." Rick said, reaching out to put his hand on the young man's shoulder.

Spencer glared at him and stepped back before Rick's hand could make contact, turning to storm away.

"She wanted me to tell you...tell you that she has your father's heart." Rick said.

"_What_ did you say?" Spencer stopped and turned back towards Rick.

"The pendant she wears—did your father give her that?" Carol asked, "She called it Reg's heart."

A huge smile broke over Spencer's face and he shocked Carol by hugging her and then turning to the others excitedly.

"You're sure she was wearing it—a big silver heart?" Spencer asked, his voice fast and excited.

"Yes; it looked like a locket." Eric said.

"My dad got it for her when she was elected—he told her if she ever needed him, needed his help or was lost he would be there for her." Spencer said, shaking his head and practically vibrating.

"But your dad's..." Glenn said slowly, frowning.

"Smiling down from heaven!" Spencer said, happy tears streaking down his cheeks, grinning and laughing. "It's a GPS tracking device. In the _pendant._..like the chips they put in dogs? As long as she still has it we can find her—get her back!"

"_All of them."_ Rick said, sharing a hopeful glance at the rest of the group, Glenn smiling, Michonne nodding in agreement, a look of fierce determination on Carol's face and tears shimmering in Eric's eyes at the possibility.

* * *

_I know, poor Daryl. I'm sorry, but it's where the story needed to go. I tried to handle it with care. Rape is about power and domination; abusing and assaulting Daryl, the strongest of the captives, made the Wolves feel in control. It'll also be what destroys them._

_There were hints earlier that Erin had something in her past she needed to "reinvent" herself after; her complicity in war time torture is something she's done her best to atone for ever since._

_Thanks for sticking with me!_


	30. Chapter 30: Broken Walls

The ASZ rescue group makes preparations to track down their missing people, with one rather reluctant participant.

* * *

_**Broken Walls**_

"_Like a city whose walls are broken through is a person who lacks self-control."_ Proverbs 25:28

* * *

"Doesn't work like that." Abraham said flatly, standing with his arms crossed in front of him, legs spread apart, firmly protesting what Rick was telling him.

"But my dad said—" Spencer started to argue, but the big man shook his head again.

"Heard what he said, but the chips in dogs ain't like a GPS in your phone or car. They're meant to ID somethin' not _track _it." Abraham explained, "Pass a scanner over it n' the microchip inside gives you info about the owner, not the critter's location. Range is only 15 feet at best."

"But could there be the tracking kind of chip in her pendant?" Eric asked, trying not to lose hope.

Abe looked over at Felicia, the other former military person now living in the Zone. In turn she looked back over at Spencer.

"Did he have a reader? Something to plot her location?" the heavily pregnant woman asked. In deference to her condition she was on "bed" rest, on the couch in her living room, with Claire and Carol watching her like hawks.

Only Rick, Eric, Abe and Spencer had been allowed in, the emergency meeting necessary to understand what they needed to do next to find their missing people. Glenn, Morgan and Michonne were busy preparing the vehicles, supplies and weapons they would need for the rescue mission.

Spencer nodded and pulled what looked like an I-Pad out of the messenger bag he was wearing slung over his shoulder. One of the benefits of their rechargeable solar battery system in the ASZ was that they had a few working computers and smaller data devices. He handed the reader to Felicia who immediately booted it up.

"Still need a working satellite network to plot locations." Abe said gruffly, shaking his head in disagreement. "Been almost two years with nobody giving a shit about anything down here let alone in orbit."

"As long as the chip is one of the newer silica based ones, it doesn't necessarily need satellite data." Felicia said. "We used them as sighting devices when the orbital systems went down. They have three gyroscopes and three accelerometers (one of both for each directional axis), and a highly accurate master clock...all smaller than a penny. Combined, these tools can track what direction the chip is moving and how fast, and its tiny size means it can be put on just about anything without much effect on its weight or shape.*"

"Dad was friends with all kinds of Admirals and Generals—played golf with them—they'd have hooked him up with the best stuff to protect us." Spencer said adamantly.

Felicia was staring intently at the screen, her fingers dancing across the keyboard. Suddenly she paused, frowning, and gasped.

"What is it?" Did you find them?" Spencer asked, excitedly kneeling beside the couch so he could reach for the I-Pad, but Carol put her hand on his shoulder to stop him.

Felicia started breathing slowly in and out, her brow wrinkled in concentration, seeming unable to talk.

"Was that a contraction?" Carol asked quietly, but Felicia waved her off.

"I'm fine, _almost got it_..." she said and then gave a little grunt of triumph as data started flowing across the screen. A few more keystrokes and the stream of numbers resolved into a GPS style map of DC and Virginia, with Alexandria plainly visible. A blue dotted line followed one of the secondary roads out of town, the dot at the end of it pulsing red to indicate the signal's present location.

"_Holy dick."_ Abraham muttered, making everyone chuckle in relieved release.

"So as long as she's still got the pendant..." Eric said leadingly.

"You can track them with this." Felicia said, nodding happily. She let Carol take it from her and settled back onto her pillows grimacing slightly as she readjusted herself.

"Got a car charger for that thing?" Abe asked, pointing at the little computer pad.

"Yeah. But I don't know how to do what she just did—what if it needs to be recalibrated while you're out there?" Spencer fretted.

"She can't leave here." Claire said unequivocally, "You'll have to find someone else who knows tech to take with you."

"I think I know just the guy." Abe said, exchanging a raised eyebrow look and a sigh with Rick.

* * *

"I'm proud of you." Rosita said, holding out another couple of clips for the pistol the man in front of her was securing in his shoulder holster. He didn't reply nor look at her and she could see the beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead.

"I am too, Eugene." Tara added, putting her hand on his shoulder and squeezing.

Eugene turned a curious shade of green, bent forward convulsively and promptly threw up on both of their feet, somehow avoiding getting any on himself.

"_Shit!"_ Rosita yelled, shaking her head at the now totally miserable man.

"_Dude!"_ Tara exclaimed, jumping back, slipping and almost falling. Rosita caught her before she could go down, but it was a near thing.

"I do sincerely apologize." Eugene said, blinking away tears, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and looking at the woman with basset hound despair.

"Are you sick?" Rosita asked, ignoring the mess and putting her hand on his clammy forehead.

"No." Eugene droned. "It seems that my imminent death has my gastrointestinal system in an uproar."

Tara had gone to the shelving in the basement Armory where they were helping Eugene prepare, to find some towels to soak up the sick and clean off her shoes enough to remove them afterwards. She turned back at his statement.

"You're _not_ going to die." Tara said firmly, handing him a large towel and a bottle of water.

"That is a _hope_, for which I thank you, but cannot be a statement of certainty. We all know death is the most likely outcome of this venture." Eugene said stoically, wiping at his face with the towel before dropping it to cover the mess and stepping on it.

"You'll have Rick, Abe, Michonne and Morgan with you—all great fighters—and you're good with the gun now, even Daryl said so." Rosita reminded him, unsnapping the pocket on his beige camo hunting vest and slipping the extra clips inside before refastening it.

Eugene opened the water bottle and taking a big gulp, nodded, but with a lack of conviction that was palpable.

"Eugene? Are you down there?" Olivia's voice called from the top of the stairs.

The man in question first paled and then blushed, looking towards the stairs with even more trepidation than the thought of facing certain death.

"It's okay Eugene, we'll get this—you go say the rest of your farewells." Tara urged him, taking the water back.

The budding romance between the Mullet and the Pantry lady had been on the slow burn for weeks, everyone doing their best to gently move it along, hoping it would make both of them happy and consequently less annoying for everyone around them.

Eugene going out on a dangerous mission was not something that anyone expected, but as the techiest geek they had, he was the best man for the job of monitoring the signal from Deanna's pendant.

"He'll be right up, Olivia!" Rosita yelled, looking at Eugene fondly. After all they had been through together she did care about him and _was _proud of him stepping up. If courage was being afraid and doing it anyway, Eugene had that in spades.

The Mullet hesitated, not wanting this to be their goodbye.

"We'll see you at the gate." Tara assured him, "Go on up."

"Wait!" Rosita said, handing him a piece of her jealously hoarded Beeman's gum. "Just in case." she winked.

* * *

"Is it true that Carol is having Daryl's baby?" Olivia asked excitedly as they started down the street towards the house nearest the gates, where he was supposed to meet up with the rest of the rescue team.

Eugene looked startled. Of all the things he'd expected her to say at this moment, that wasn't one of them. She'd already hugged him and told him to take care of himself out there and they'd been walking companionably side by side. He'd been trying to work up the balls to reach for her hand when she'd asked about the other couple.

"That would explain why a woman of her capabilities did not insist on going on this mission." Eugene mused. He'd wondered about that when he'd been told the names of the rest of the team.

"I still can't get over the fact that she's the one who rescued you all from that awful place—she's like a Sarah Connor who got to keep her Kyle after facing down the Terminator!" Olivia gushed.

"It does seem to be a case of bad ass falling for bad ass." Eugene nodded, impressed at her Sci-Fi film reference. "She and Dixon make quite the impressive pair. Their child would have a good chance of surviving and thriving in this new world."

"Just thinking about having a baby these days is frightening..." Olivia said, sounding troubled. "Just how old do you think she is anyhow?"

"Obviously not too old to conceive if she is indeed with child." Eugene shrugged. "By my observation, they have a lot of what seems to be mutually satisfying sex, which also helps in the probability of conception."

"_Eugene!"_ Olivia said, stopping and holding her hand to her mouth, blushing.

"Not my personal observation of the _act_." Eugene back tracked, realizing that his previous voyeuristic activities while on the road may have reached her ears form another source. Rosita and Abraham had always seemed tolerantly amused by his watching and could've mentioned it to someone here in the Zone.

"Then how...?" Olivia asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"I have observed that the amount of times they touch each other has increased exponentially since their relationship became general knowledge." Feeling somehow emboldened, Eugene reached out and took her hands in his.

Olivia swallowed hard and nodded for him to continue.

"They always watched each other, usually when the other didn't know it, even back when we were on the road...but now...it's like they can feel each other's eyes and are _compelled_ to look back." Eugene said and then he looked into her eyes, something that his shyness made difficult most of the time.

"Compelled?" Olivia murmured, leaning closer.

"And whenever they part, even if it's just to leave the house and go about their days, they kiss." Eugene said softly.

"They do?" Olivia blinked up at him.

"And when he goes outside the walls—they embrace and they—" but he was interrupted as she lifted up on her toes and touched her lips to his.

Eugene was so shocked he swallowed his gum.

But then he closed his eyes, a look of absolute blissful surrender transforming his face. The bland hangdog expression he usually wore was utterly obliterated.

After a little while Olivia pulled away slightly, breaking the kiss and looking up at him, worried she'd overstepped.

"Like that?" Olivia asked softly.

"What?" Eugene blinked rapidly in confusion—of course he'd _liked _it!

"Do Daryl and Carol kiss goodbye like _that_?" Olivia asked and was dismayed when he shook his head no.

"I do believe that there is tongue." Eugene said with a little thoughtful analytic frown.

"Oh. I see." A big smile broke over Olivia's face before she leaned up to wrap her arms around his neck and give him the _full_ Caryl goodbye kiss.

"Geez, man! Have a little self control." Abe muttered as he walked by, burdened down with three rifles and a back pack of ammo.

Continuing to kiss Olivia, Eugene very deliberately raised his middle finger in Abe's direction.

"Touché, Mullet man..." Abe chortled in a long chuckling laugh of appreciation.

* * *

"I hate this." Carol said, watching Michonne double check to make sure the clip in her 9mm was full before slapping it back into the stock.

They were the first at the rendezvous site because Carol couldn't sit still and had been making both Felicia and Claire nervous enough that they'd told her to go along with Michonne, promising to send for her if the contractions started up again. The ones she'd had earlier in the morning while working on the GPS device had subsided, and were probably Braxton-Hicks, but they weren't taking any chances.

Maggie was with them now instead. As the only one of them who had actual experience performing a caesarian, she had agreed to be at the birth, despite the pain that the memory of Judith's delivery brought her. Carol was grateful, but still wished Erin was here almost as much as she wanted Daryl back.

"I know." Michonne replied. Hanging back and letting someone else go after the people she loved wouldn't sit well with her either.

"You have the extra batteries for the tracker and the walkies? You know the owl call is the one he'll recognize best, if he can hear it..." Carol's voice trailed off, her mouth working to hold back a sob. She shook her head angrily and turned away, reining in her emotions.

"Daryl Dixon is the most stubborn, strongest son of a bitch I know." Michonne said with great dignity. "He'll be fine."

"I know." Carol sniffed, rubbing at her eyes and wiping her hands down over her cheeks and off her face before she turned back to face her friend. "It's just the damn hormones."

"It's a Dixon." Michonne chuckled, sliding the pistol into her leg holster and then gesturing to Carol's small bump, hidden under Daryl's oversize shirt. "What did you expect?"

"I never expected to be 45, pregnant and alone." Carol said quietly, her expressive eyes full. She gave Michonne a crooked helpless smile and the other woman sighed and moved in close to embrace her tightly.

"You know you're not alone. You have us, your family." Michonne admonished, adding as she released her, with a chuckle and a sly look, "And you know we'll get him back...gotta see the look on his face when you tell him about the baby."

Carol's eyes went wider and she made a funny little choking noise in her throat at that the imagined reaction Daryl would have to the news. It wasn't exactly something either of them had remotely considered.

Michonne's eyebrows came together in concern and she touched Carol's forearm, closing her fingers over it, feeling the slight trembling there. The woman had more self-control than anyone the swordswoman had ever met, but Michonne could tell this was close to breaking her.

"_We'll bring him back."_ Michonne repeated, more seriously this time, letting her hand slide down to hold Carol's and staring her in the eyes until the other woman nodded, agreeing with a tight closed-mouthed imitation of a smile.

Morgan joined them then, another Jedi master of control, and both women acknowledged him with a nod.

"The boy was looking for you." Morgan said to Carol, standing with his staff in his right hand, a worn tan backpack over his left shoulder, at ease, but ready.

"Sam?" Michonne asked and Morgan inclined his head.

"He's with Claire. Told him we'll do our best to bring your man back." Morgan told Carol in that calm way he had. Whatever rivalry there had possibly been between him and Daryl had dissipated. He'd silently accepted the longstanding claims the hick and the housewife, (as Abe had jokingly referred to the couple one ale sodden night), had on each other. They'd broken down each other's walls and he respected that.

A quiet _"Thank you..."_ was all Carol could think to say in return.

"Love's what we have left." Morgan shrugged.

Michonne gave a small sigh of agreement, giving Carol's hand another squeeze before releasing it to greet Abraham and Rick's arrival, taking their gear and starting to pack the car.

* * *

AN: A little levity &amp; sweetness to leaven the sadness of the last chapter. Thanks for hanging in there with me!

Do we have a ship name for Eugene &amp; Olivia yet?

*Tech info on similar chip technology quoted from:  
Mark Prigg. "The tiny chip that can track its location WITHOUT satellites." _The Daily Mail_ online. 12 April 2013.


	31. Chapter 31: We're Killing Strangers

Deanna and Erin reach the Wolves' base, followed closely by the arrival of the search party.

Trigger warning: references to sexual acts and vulgar terminology about such from the Wolves.

* * *

_**We're Killing Strangers **_

_We're killing strangers, so we don't kill the ones that we love_

_We pack demolition, we can't pack emotion__  
__Dynamite? We just might...__  
__So blow us a kiss, blow us a kiss__  
__Blow us a kiss, we'll blow you to pieces_

_We're killing strangers, we're killing strangers__  
__We're killing strangers, so we don't kill the ones that we love  
_-Marilyn Manson, (via John Wick Soundtrack)

* * *

"_Daryl? Daryl can you hear me?"_

The voice was so far away. He was tired. More tired than he could ever remember being. The effort it would take to open his eyes was like trying to lift a twelve point buck that weighed as much as he did field dressed.

Something niggled at him though. It was a _woman's_ voice. There was a woman...she was important... she...she _cared _about him, cared _for_ him...cared if he came _back _to her. She was the first person to ever tell him he was worth a damn...she was brave and strong as hell...and she loved him...

"_Carol?"_ the work was the barest croak, his lips barely moving.

"No...but she's safe. She's back at home." the woman told him.

"_Not here?"_ Daryl groaned, but then grunted, _"Good."_ It _was_ good_...good_ that she wasn't here. Here was a fucking nightmare. Here was pain and humiliation. Here was the fear that he wouldn't be able to save any of the people locked up here, not even himself...

"Can you drink some of this?' the woman asked and he felt a trickle of wetness on his lips. He opened his mouth and let it flow across his tongue and into his throat, but then he started to choke. Strong hands lifted him into a sitting position, leaning him forward so he could cough out the offending liquid.

Everything hurt. There wasn't an inch on his body that didn't feel bruised or cut or scratched. His nose and eyes were practically swollen shut—the reason his mouth was so dry was that he'd been forced to breathe through it if he wanted to breathe at all.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder and he flinched back, ducking his head and raising his arm to block any further contact.

"Daryl...I'm sorry, but I need to examine you... your injuries need tended to." the woman said, trying to sound soothing, but her voice was also infinitely sad.

"Daryl, it's Erin. She just wants to help." a second voice, male said quietly.

"Aaron?" Daryl asked, trying to open his eyes wider, dropping his arm.

"Aaron and Erin." Yang chuckled, "I guess that _is _a little confusing. It's Dr. Yang, Daryl."

"Doc? What're you doin' here?" Daryl said, trying to focus on the doctor, starting to sound panicked, "Alexandria? The walls?"

"The walls are fine—it's fine. Everyone's fine. Carol's fine." Erin said. "I'm here to help you and Aaron. It was...well, it was part of the deal."

"These assholes ain't _deal _making sorta people." Daryl grated out bitterly.

"Preaching to the choir," Erin said wryly. "Remember I lived with them for awhile."

"Then why the hell did you come back?" Aaron asked, quietly angry. "What's this _deal_?"

"I need to see to him first, please." Erin said stubbornly and then dropped her volume and added more pleadingly, _"I don't know how much time they'll give me." _

They had taken the other two women out of the cell before they'd brought Erin in despite Aaron's protests. Daryl had been mostly unconscious for the better part of a day and night. All they could do for him was try to keep him hydrated, periodically trying to rouse him and dripping water into his mouth.

Once he understood what she wanted, Daryl lay quietly while Erin pulled on a pair of thin vinyl gloves and examined his head, face and ribs. She disinfected and splinted the nose to hold the repair Aaron had done in place. Next she applied fresh medical tape to the broken or cracked ribs and checked his extremities, using hand sanitizer to clean the scratches and rope burns as best she could.

Daryl bore the obviously painful medical care stoically, his jaw tight, lips thin and white. While she bound his ribs he seemed to pass out again, but roused when she finished, whispering a thank you, breathing easier.

When she saw the dried blood on the back of Daryl's pants Yang exchanged a questioning look with Aaron and he winced and nodded yes to the unspoken query. Erin closed her eyes against furious tears and gritted her teeth to hold back the scream of rage she felt rising.

"_Go 'head. Know you gotta."_ Daryl said in his soft dry gravel monotone, and his hands moved to the belt loops of his already loosened khakis, starting to tug them down. Aaron helped him finish and then to roll over.

"Tell me if you need me to stop." Erin said. She'd dealt with PTSD in assault victims before, usually women when she was an ER doctor, but she'd done after care for the interrogated prisoners in Iraq as well. In the end there hadn't been much difference. Torture was just another kind of rape.

Daryl did his best to suffer her carefully therapeutic touch, but it was still painful. At one point his hand reached out blindly for something to hold onto and found Aaron's, clutching it so hard that the other recruiter would have bruises afterwards.

"_They're coming for us."_ Erin whispered to Daryl and Aaron as she applied an antiseptic soothing aloe cream, grimacing as she felt his shudder at her touch and then righted his pants. She snapped off the gloves and started putting away her equipment into her back pack as she talked.

"How?" Aaron asked. If there was a plan that went along with the deal, he'd sort of like to be in on it.

"_Rick and the others will be here soon—we just have to hold on." _Yang told them. _"Deanna has it wired."_

"Deanna!" Aaron said, surprised.

"She traded herself for you." Erin said in a more normal voice, "Took the blame for what happened to the Wolves we captured."

Daryl was dumbfounded—Deanna had been willing to sacrifice herself for _him?_ No—it wasn't just that. She was shielding Carl and the other kids as well as Aaron. Anyone who doubted her leadership before now should eat their words...

"So she's a prisoner too? Where is she?" Aaron asked, not seeing how that helped them.

"Their leader, Circe, took her somewhere before they brought me in here." Erin said. "But as long as she's got the—" but there was suddenly a loud commotion of raised voices outside their cell that interrupted her explanation.

"Whatta ya mean we have to leave 'em alone?" an angry male voice whined.

"We ain't even got to have our fun with the other one! I'm tired 'a those tapped out blonde bitches—I need some _tight_ pussy!" one of the Wolves complained.

"Or that uppity dyke doctor—the Queen won't protect her like the Lupus Dei did—I call first dibs on _her_ cunt."

"You can have it...prob'ly got teeth down there—she's one mean little twat." another very disgruntled voice chimed in followed by mocking laughter in response.

"Just coz' she twisted yer dick and nuts when you tried to grab her tits..." more laughter, louder.

"He was black n' blue down there for weeks—couldn't get it up neither!" another man guffawed.

"Shut th'fuck up!" the man Erin had so efficiently dealt with yelled and then there was the sound of a fist hitting bone and an angry roar and then the cheering that arose around a fight.

Daryl and Aaron both gave Erin an impressed look.

"Gonads on the outside—gets you men every time." Yang shrugged.

"ENOUGH!" a more authoritative female voice rose above the fighting outside and it dissolved into disgruntled murmurings.

"That's enough of this bullshit." Circe said sternly. "The deal was that we return their men in exchange for the one who took out the Lupus Dei and the rest. They kept their part; now we do ours. You two—go get them ready for transport."

Daryl was reminded uncomfortably of the showdown at Grady. A new leader trying to maintain her authority over a group of violent individuals, even more depraved than Noah had told them the pseudo cops at the hospital had been.

Two of the Wolves came in soon thereafter. One looked like a dirty Mr. Clean, with a shaved head and two pierced ears, and the other shorter thin one resembled nothing so much as a crocodile walking upright, his long nose, pointy chin and bulging eyes matching his toothy yellow grin under his John Deere green baseball cap.

"Looks like your pardon came through, meat." The larger of the two smirked at Daryl, blowing him a kiss. "Remember me?" he asked, "Gonna miss that soft tight ass...mmm hmmn," and then he stroked himself through his pants, laughing low and lasciviously.

Daryl remembered. He struggled to his feet, letting Aaron help only until he was half standing and then he limped over to the bars and just stood there, staring at Mr. Clean.

"You eyeballin' me, _meat_?" the bald man snorted, striding up to get in Daryl's face, grabbing him by the throat through the bars and slamming him forward, amazed that after what he'd been subjected to Daryl could still have any defiance left.

Faster than letting loose a bolt the man was gasping, a look of confusion on his face. Moaning, he bent forward and then simply dropped to the floor. The crocodile man started forward, but Daryl reached through the bars, leaving the big knife he'd just stuck under Mr. Clean's ribcage and slammed up into his heart, and using the second smaller one, he threw with perfect precision, as slick a blade through the eye toss as you'd ever want to see. Again a look of confusion passed over the second almost dead man's face and then he dropped as well.

"_Hope the one we can reach has the keys."_ Daryl grunted before he collapsed, trying to stop himself from falling too fast by hanging onto the bars, sliding to the floor, gasping in pain as he landed.

Aaron and Erin were still frozen in place, looking at the two dead men, Daryl, and then at each other several times before what he had done truly sunk in. Then they rushed to kneel beside him.

"Fucker took my knives." Daryl said weakly, gesturing at the empty sheaths worn by the bald man and then at the knife handle now protruding from the smaller man's eye socket.

When he'd gotten close enough, Daryl had simply reclaimed his property.

"Find the keys." Daryl muttered, fighting to not pass out, his eyes fluttering, "He'll turn."

While Erin checked Daryl's pulse, Aaron pulled on the man's clothes, dragging him closer, finding the key ring hooked to his belt. Opening the cage, he retrieved both of the Wolves' guns and Daryl's smaller knife, using it to quickly and neatly punch through Mr. Clean's temple. Then he unbuckled the belt the dead man wore and removed it and the two sheaths, one for the smaller knife that had belonged to Beth, the one Carol had given him, and the other larger one he'd taken from Terminus, which he had just used to kill two of the men who had raped him.

Next Aaron stripped the clothes off of both men and dragged their bodies into the cell. Erin helped Daryl exchange his torn and bloody clothes for the relatively cleaner ones while Aaron did the same. The bigger man's boots were too big for both, but since they wouldn't get far barefoot Aaron pulled them on and the Reeboks worn by the Croc man went on Daryl.

"We can't fight our way out of here." Erin sighed nervously, rising to peek out the door and then barring it from the inside, the adrenalin rush subsiding and reality kicking in. There were at least twenty Wolves outside.

"We have to try." Aaron protested, helping Daryl, who was leaning against the wall, put on his belt and knives.

"Look at him!" she hissed, gesturing at Daryl, "He can barely stand!"

"I'm _fine_." Daryl growled, sounding pissed off as hell, pulling himself upright by sheer force of will.

"We can't just sit around—they'll come looking for these two soon." Aaron said emphatically, looking at the dead Wolves.

The sound of gunfire drew their attention outside the door and then the concussion wave from a loud explosion rocked the building. More gunfire and shouting followed and it became obvious an attack was under way.

"I'd say our ride's here." Daryl said with a tired little smile.

"We need to find Deanna." Erin said.

"And Brianna and Riley—the others being held here—if they're still alive." Aaron agreed.

* * *

"How the fuck did they find us?" Circe said, striking Deanna across the face so hard she fell to the ground. The other woman said nothing, but the small smile and narrowing of her eyes as she looked back defiantly told the tale. Her heart shaped pendant, which the Wolf leader had taken from her when they arrived and she'd been stripped and shamed in front of the Pack, hung from Circe's neck, still sending its steady signal.

"Does it matter?" her main henchman asked, pulling his pistol out of the holster and pointing it at Deanna's head. "They broke the deal, just shoot the bitch and the rest of 'em and be done with it!"

"No!" the Queen said quickly, "That's too easy..." she narrowed her eyes and looked down at the ASZ leader and then started striding across the room, heading for the back exit of the building. _"Bring her."_

"Stupid bitch,"grumbling, the Wolf dragged the prisoner off the floor by her bound wrists.

Deanna wasn't sure if he meant Circe or her and then decided it was probably both.

The Wolves had taken over a small town square, barricading the streets with derelict cars and wire mesh fencing to keep the walkers out. Their main lair was the two century old stone and brick courthouse, with prisoners kept in the jail cells in the basement and the courtrooms serving as what amounted to torture chambers for those unlucky enough to have been captured by them and not just killed outright and placed in one of their trap sites.

Circe's space was the former mayor's office, which had its own entrance and exit via a fire escape down the back side of the building and into an alley where their only two other running vehicles were kept. One was Daryl's motorcycle and one was an older model pick up, a Chevy.

"Shit!" Circe yelled when she climbed out onto the first landing and saw that the explosion had targeted the truck, which was now resting upside down in the middle of the barrier, the fence destroyed, and walkers were streaming in. The bike had been knocked over in the blast, no telling how much damage had been done to it.

Aaron's car was parked at the front of the building in case they were blocked from leaving out the back, but she knew that the loose loyalty of most of these men meant they'd probably already tried to take it and make a break for it when she hadn't immediately appeared there after the attack.

"Head for the jail." the Queen ordered. "We'll make our stand down there—more hostages mean more bargaining power—go!"

* * *

"You have to go down—to the cells in the Courthouse—that's where they have them." the older of the blonde women Michonne had found and freed from the men trying to run in Aaron's car told her. When they'd opened the gate she and Rick had been waiting, using the old trick he and Glenn had first used in Atlanta and later what Carol had at Terminus. Donning coveralls, they'd all been doused in walker guts and headed in with the large herd they'd cultivated for just this purpose.

The tracer signal had led them about sixty miles from Alexandria, to a small town much like the one where Morgan and Rick had met. It had been a near thing—they'd lost the trace about ten miles outside of the Zone. Trying everything he could think of, Eugene had been able to triangulate the location from actual satellite data, possibly Chinese spy orbiters still in place, since they were so close to D.C. After a couple of hours reconfiguring the chip reader to use that as a source, the steady red dot reappeared, leading them north.

"This is some good shit." the Mullet said approvingly, petting the little device Spencer had given them approvingly, as if it was a small beloved dachshund.

When they found the walled off city center, Morgan and Abe had set off to lure a herd in, while Rick and Michonne made short work of a few walkers for their disgusting but necessary camouflage.

"I hoped I'd never have to do this again." Michonne said, wrinkling her whole face in distaste as Rick covered her back with the goo. She'd wrapped her dreads in a scarf tied high on her head, but knew some of it would still find its way into her hair.

"When did you?—oh, right." Rick said, remembering. "The day we met."

She'd been accidentally covered in the entrails of a walker while fighting for her life, discovering it worked the same as her "pets" had done for her and Andrea all those months.

"You weren't gonna let me in, as I recall." Michonne teased dryly. It had been Carl who'd insisted she be brought inside.

"Would've been the biggest mistake of my life." Rick said solemnly, making Michonne turn to him with a quizzical expression. His face was sad, apologetic...hopeful.

Michonne turned back around without comment. Rick had burned a lot of bridges with her since they'd come to Alexandria. She wasn't certain she was ready to start rebuilding them.

"They're coming—I can hear them." Eugene announced, looking ready to throw up and not just from the smell.

"You need to stay out of sight—if they can't see you they should ignore you—when we get our people someone will signal you on the walkie and let you know where to pick us up." Rick said.

Eugene was staying with the RV, which they had also liberally smeared with walker guts.

"And for Christ's sake, keep the doors locked until you know it's us." Rick added; the memory of a burning barn and a blood spattered windshield making him grimace.

"We're counting on you, Eugene." Michonne said.

If anything went wrong with their escape transport, it could be a long trip back to the ASZ on foot.

"I am on like Donkey Kong." Eugene droned and then saluted before he went up the steps of the RV and locked the door behind him just as the herd, with a similarly camouflaged Abe and Morgan in the lead started spilling through the trees and around the big boxy vehicle like salmon parting for a boulder midstream.

Taking their cue from Morgan, all of them wore light body armor under their camo coverings, but there was always the possibility that one of the Wolf sentries would get off a good head shot, thinking they were really a walker. They wanted to get close enough to the walls to lob the grenades in, doing as much damage as possible in the shortest amount of time, hopefully forcing the Wolves to flee to escape the attackers and the herd.

However the need to find and rescue Daryl, Aaron, Deanna and Erin meant they couldn't just burn the place down; they had to use surgical strikes, starting in the back to push them to the main front gate.

When the rusted red car revved its engine on the other side, waiting for the gate to open wide enough to get through, the walker swarm pushed in, almost covering the sedan. The driver and other man in the front seat panicked when they saw they were being overwhelmed. The passenger shot right through the side window, shattering the safety glass, and was pulled through the window by walkers. The other man put his gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger, the sound of the shot mingling with the screams of the man being devoured alive.

Rick was disgusted—the plan was to capture them and find out where the prisoners were being held—but then they heard the cries for help coming from the trunk. Thinking it could be some of their people they drove the car back to the RV, parked next to it and then signaled Eugene. He tossed them two blankets which they'd covered in walker camo and used to get the women safely from the trunk to the RV.

Learning where Daryl and Aaron were being held gave them a direction to head in and after letting Abe and Morgan, who were still at the at the back wall breach, know what was up via the walkies, they headed in to find them.

* * *

_Dedicated to Lily, my sister's small beloved miniature dachshund, who passed away today._

_Thanks for reading!_


	32. Chapter 32: La Dia de los Muertos

_While those at the ASZ get encouraging news, the rescue of the prisoners held by the Wolves continues._

_Warning:__Character death._

_**El Dia de los Muertos**_

"They found them!" Carl came running in to the house, followed by an excited Sam, startling Carol and Claire who were just getting ready to help Felicia up from the couch.

"_What?"_ Carol said, turning to look at Carl, who seemed ready to jump out of his skin with happiness.

"We just got a message from Michonne." Carl said, wheezing. He must've run all the way from Deanna's house.

"They tracked them to a town north of here about fifty miles." Sam filled in the rest while Carl bent over trying to catch his breath.

"They have them back? _Daryl_?" Carol asked, her voice tight with worry. Watching Rick and the others head out to find him without her had just about made her punch her fist through the wall in frustration. She hated this feeling of helplessness and forced inaction.

"They were making their move tonight—going in to find them." Carl told them, standing up, red cheeked. "She'll check in again when they're on their way home."

Carol sat down on the couch next to Felicia who took her hand. Claire left the room briefly and came back with a glass of water which she handed to Carl who accepted it gratefully. To Sam she gave a cookie and he beamed.

"So they haven't actually even _seen_ any of them." Carol said, disappointment muting her voice, "It's just the tracking chip."

"Carol—this is a good thing—can't you see that? If the chip is there, then Deanna's there. Wouldn't they take her and Dr. Yang to where Daryl and Aaron are?"Claire said reasonably.

"My dad and Michonne will bring him back, Carol; you know they will." Carl said.

"All I know is that they're _all_ in danger now." Carol said flatly.

"Then we need to ask the angels of those who have gone before to watch over them all until they're safely home." Felicia said, taking both of Carol's hands in hers.

Carol frowned at her.

"_El Dia de los Muertos_—the Day of the Dead. In Mexico, where my abuela—my grandmother—was from, they had a tradition at the end of October: _los angelitos,_ the angels of the little ones who have passed, are honored. People build _ofrendas_—small altars—to the dead and put out food and things they loved in life to encourage visits by the souls, so the souls will hear the prayers of the living." Felicia explained.

"_Los angelitos..."_ Carol nodded slowly. They all had so many dead now...it was a comforting thought that you could somehow harness their power, their essences to _help_ the living... She looked to Carl who gave her a bittersweet smile. There were so few of them now who even remembered her _angelitas_, Sophia...Mika...Lizzie... It would be nice to believe they were with Daryl now, watching over him and his rescuers...

"I need to get back. I'll come tell you as soon as we know more." Carl promised. He looked at Sam expectantly but the boy looked torn between going with him and staying with Carol.

"How would you like to stay and help us make an _ofrenda,_ Sam?" Felicia asked.

"You think it would help bring them back?" Sam asked skeptically, coming to stand in front of her and Carol.

Claire motioned to Carl that he could leave and the older boy smiled and gave them a little wave before he headed back out.

"It can't hurt now, can it?" Felicia smiled. "If we can talk Olivia out of some sugar, maybe we can make _calaveras_."

"What's that?" Sam asked, frowning.

"They're little skulls, made out of sugar." Felicia explained. "You put them on the altar."

"Is that what the _dead _kids have for candy?" Sam asked, wide eyed with the morbid interest of all little boys_. "Cool."_

Felicia and Claire laughed and even Carol smiled a little through her worry, but it felt a bit like whistling in a graveyard.

"You really think it's our people out there?" Aaron asked Daryl as the sounds of gunfire continued outside, muted by the thick stone walls of the Courthouse foundation.

"Told you about Terminus, didn't I?" Daryl rasped and then chuckled until he coughed weakly, holding his ribs and gritting his teeth in pain.

"Carol single-handedly swooping in and thrashing the cannibals? Still not sure you weren't jerking my chain with that one." Aaron mused, frowning at Daryl.

"Carol did _what_?" Erin asked, leaning in to check that Daryl hadn't started his nose bleeding again with the coughing bout. He shied back, avoiding her, about done with being poked and prodded.

"You haven't heard this one yet? Go ahead, partner." Aaron said with an encouraging grin.

"We got caught in a trap, all of us but Carol n' Tyreese, Sasha's brother. He stayed out of it to take care a' lil' Ass-kicker...Carol, she covered herself with walker guts; blew up a fuel tank, took down the fences so a herd could get in, shot up the place. Gave us a chance to make a break for it." Daryl said proudly. "She saved us, all by herself."

"If she's leading the charge out there, it sounds like we're good as gold." Aaron smirked over at him.

"She's not. She _can't_ be. Not with the baby..." Erin said, sounding troubled, before she had a chance to think about what she was saying and to whom.

"What...what do you mean? Daryl asked, his voice going weak.

"_Felicia."_ Erin said quickly. "Because I came with Deanna, Carol would have to stay to help with Felicia's baby, she's close to delivering."

Daryl nodded; that made sense. Carol had been prepared to do a caesarian on Lori back at the prison; she would know what to do without the doctor there.

"Well, let's hope she gave her game plan to whoever _did_ come." Aaron said sagely. "Wait—what's that?"

It took a few seconds for them all to register that the sound they heard was the key to the cell block being turned. Deanna was shoved inside the doorway as a human shield, followed closely by Circe and her henchman.

"What do we have here then?" Circe asked, looking down at the bodies of her men that Aaron had stripped and stacked by the door.

"_Back off, bitch."_ Daryl said menacingly, holding the larger knife taken off the dead man in a ready to throw position.

"The puppy can still bark through his bruises!" Circe laughed, holding her pistol against Deanna's neck. "Tell me puppy—you try sitting down on that pretty ass yet? My boys gave it quite the pounding, didn't they?"

Deanna's eyes closed in remorse when she saw the flare of shame and anger cross Dixon's face.

"I said _back off_!" Daryl repeated.

"No. Drop the knife or I'll make her a walker quicker than you can imagine." Circe refused to give in and pressed the gun deeper, making Deanna's eyes fly open again.

Aaron and Erin crouched low to the floor, waiting in the shadows behind Daryl. They didn't think the intruders knew they were there—they had hidden as soon as they saw Deanna wasn't alone.

"Drop it!" The minion barked, training his gun on Daryl, who let his shoulders slump as he let the knife fall to the floor with a clatter.

"The puppy is tame after all." Circe sneered and then swiftly raised her hand and fired.

Deanna threw her body in front of Daryl even as Aaron returned fire, hitting Circe square in the chest.

The Wolf leader stood frozen for about ten seconds, looking down at the spreading blood with puzzlement and then lifted her gun, opened her mouth and blew her own brains out.

"Bitch didn't ever want to turn." the man who had been with the women said, dropping his weapon, stepping over the corpse and raising his hands in surrender.

Aaron stepped forward, kicking the gun back towards Daryl and roughly forced the minion to his knees, binding his hands behind his back.

Erin was working frantically on Deanna, who had been hit in the upper abdomen, trying to stop the bleeding. The ASZ leader's breath was raspy and a trickle of blood was running from the side of her mouth like the water from a tiny crack in a dam.

Daryl was sitting next to her, looking stunned.

"Daryl press here! Hard!" Erin instructed, turning to grab more of the dressings from her bag. While he did as she asked she rolled Deanna to her side, looking for an exit wound, swearing when she found none.

"_Shit!"_

"_What?"_ Daryl asked, his eyes going back and forth between Erin and Deanna rapidly.

"Bullet's still in there...must've hit rib and fragmented," They both knew how bad it was.

"So what can we do?" Aaron asked, "Can we make a stretcher to get her out of here? Our people must be close! They had the leader cornered, that's why they came down here, to make a stand, right?"

Erin met Aaron's eyes and shook her head back and forth.

"_No!_ I refuse to accept that. We're _all _getting out of here!" Aaron said, his voice stubborn, angry, hurting...

"It's all right Aaron." Deanna rasped. "Tell Eric I'll miss his spaghetti." she looked at Erin, "Help Spencer..."

"Of course," Erin nodded.

Deanna looked up at Daryl, smiling through her pain, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

"_Why?"_ Daryl muttered, uncomprehendingly, _"Why did you do that?"_

"You're a good man, Daryl, I see that now. You deserve to go home, to be with your family..." Deanna flashed him a little grin and put her hand on top of the one he was still holding over her wound, "I wish I could see...when Carol..."

And then she simply _stopped_, her mouth still forming the last letter of Carol's name. Her eyes, which had been focused and smiling at Daryl, went glassy. Her grip on his hand loosened and fell away.

Aaron pulled the silver heart necklace he recognized as Deanna's off the dead Wolf woman and brought it to Daryl.

Daryl continued to stare down at her, taking her small white hand in his big bloody one and placed the necklace on her palm and wrapped his fingers around it to close her hand over the heart.

He was still sitting there like that when Michonne and Rick burst into the room a few minutes later.

Common graveyard superstitions: Never whistle in a graveyard, you are summoning the Devil; If you lie down in a coffin you are taunting death to come and take you. .

Palfrey, Dale Hoyt (1995). "The Day of the Dead"._Día de los Muertos Index_. Access Mexico Connect.


	33. Chapter 33: Gray Matters

_Carol keeps vigil at Daryl's bed side while Rick and Morgan deal with the last Wolf as they scavenge the Pack's lair. _

* * *

_**Gray Matters**_

"I need to keep him here so I can monitor him—he has internal injuries—I had to sedate him...he wouldn't let go of her...we had to ...so she wouldn't turn..." Erin was very upset, but doing her best to stay calm in front of Carol.

Daryl had some sort of mental break there in the cell after Deanna had given her life to save him. No one could get through to him, not even Rick who'd known him the longest. Erin had been forced to put him out when he'd fought them over releasing the ASZ leader's body. Aaron had been able to take care of her before she turned, but it had been a near thing.

Carol sat next to Daryl on the patient bed in the infirmary, holding his hand, wanting nothing more than to take him home and curl around him and never let him go, but she understood that his condition wouldn't allow that. His poor face was so bruised and swollen he looked like he'd gone ten rounds with the Hulk, and the rest of him wasn't much better. She brushed the hair back from his troubled forehead and placed a soft lingering kiss over the W that had been incised there.

Daryl softly moaned.

"_Shhh...I'm here...you're safe now..."_ Carol said softly, kissing his brow again.

Daryl sighed in his sleep and his face relaxed.

Carol looked over at Aaron who stood next to Eric on the other side of the bed. Daryl's sacrifice had not only deflected attention from the women, he had saved his recruiting partner from branding—his forehead remained untouched—because they hadn't gotten around to his turn at torture before the ASZ people had attacked.

"What happened to him?" Carol asked quietly and then returned her gaze to Daryl.

"He protected us. They tortured him." Aaron replied, though that much was obvious.

"What _happened_ to him?" Carol asked again, this time in a terse _don't bullshit me because you don't think I can handle it_ tone.

"I'm so sorry..." Aaron said, his voice breaking. Eric's arm was around him for support.

"He's a hero. He saved us." a voice from one of the beds across the room spoke up. It was the elder of the two sisters they'd found in the Wolves' compound, Brianna. The younger, Riley was in the bed next to her, also sedated, like Daryl, with an IV drip in her arm.

"You should be resting." Erin admonished her. Both women were dehydrated, malnourished and even more physically at risk from their longer term abuse than Daryl. Riley had a high fever from an infection caused by a partial miscarriage. Erin had done a D&amp;C to remove the remaining tissue, but if the antibiotics didn't work further surgery might be necessary.

"What they did to him, to us...it doesn't stain us—their sins—are not our sins...he's _innocent_..." Brianna's voice rose, begging Carol, begging them all to understand, tears of anger and righteousness flashing in her eyes.

Erin went to her, gently offering support, but the woman kept staring at Carol, willing her to understand.

"I know." Carol said, her fears for him confirmed, knowing his worst wounds weren't the ones she could see, hating that he'd been forced to endure the mental anguish of reliving what his father had done to him. She looked at Aaron and Eric, "He'll need Claire here; when he wakes up."

"We all will." Erin said, looking around the room full of the people most directly damaged by the Wolves, but wondering how the whole community would cope with the loss of their leader.

* * *

"You did good back there." Rick said to Morgan. They were working on loading the supplies they'd found in the Wolves' lair. The two of them had stayed behind while Michonne, Eugene and Abraham had taken the rescued ones, and Deanna's body, back to the ASZ in the RV.

Brianna had identified the man who had been with the Queen as Grayson, who had only recently joined the pack after being captured. Their ranks low after the failed attack on the ASZ, new captives were given a choice. For the men, it was join or end up in the cells in the basement or in one of the traps. Women weren't given a choice.

His intelligence and dark good looks quickly made Grayson a favorite of Circe, who took him as her lover. Behind her back he had tried to help the captives, giving them extra rations and bringing them what herbs, like the mint, he could sneak in. In front of Circe and the others he played the part, using his status to avoid participating in the assaults, though there was no way to stop them.

What to do with him was the question the group faced without a lot of time to decide it. Michonne pointed out that sometimes good people found themselves in impossible situations—Noah at Grady, Daryl with the Claimers, Eugene's lie—you did what you had to do to survive. Unsurprisingly Morgan wanted to bring him into the fold, while after seeing what had been done to Daryl, Rick was holding the Python to the young man's head, muttering his usual _"None of them get to live. "_

The compromise was to have him remain with Morgan and Rick while the others took Daryl and the women back to the ASZ. The Wolf knew where all of the weapons and supplies were stored and promised to help them locate them in return for his release, far from the Zone.

Now that the herd had passed they were scavenging for anything they could find to load into the red rust bucket car. Though it had been damaged when it was rammed into the gate, it still ran, although the blood, bone and brain matter sprayed over the interior from the pack member's suicide made it a grisly option. After removing the bodies, they cleaned it as best they could and put a tarp they'd found over the seats.

They'd transferred a trailer hitch from the blown up pick-up onto the car and hitched it to the small U-Haul that the Wolves had used to transport walkers and human cargo alike. It was just big enough for Daryl's bike if they removed the tires. They filled in around it with anything of value they could find, from medical supplies to winter clothing, but placed the most needed items, food and drugs, in the car.

"There has to be room for gray, Rick." Morgan said. "You're not livin' in a black and white world. Nothing's ever _all_ right or _all _wrong. We do our best, we compromise to survive, make the best decision possible for the situation." He lifted a heavy box of canned food into the trunk of the car and pulled out one of the cans to hold up and look at its label.

"What?" Rick asked, dropping another box in beside the one Morgan had placed, seeing the sad smile on the other man's face.

"This was Duane's favorite: canned peaches; liked 'em better than fresh." Morgan said with a wry chuckle. "Living in Georgia, and he liked canned best."

"Duane your kid?" the former Wolf asked, his voice cautiously curious, as he carried over another box of food.

Rick turned and glared at the man, but Morgan nodded.

"He was."

"I had a little brother, he was just a baby...and a sister...she was thirteen. We were in the evacuation camp when it all started. I was nineteen so they made me go with the men to work on the fences—I tried to tell them our mom was dead, that Enid didn't have any help to take care of Charlie but me, but they wouldn't listen." the young man's voice was hoarse, pained. "Camp got overrun. Never saw them again."

"Enid?" Rick asked, something tripping in his mind, hadn't the girl said she'd had a baby brother? He exchanged a look with Morgan who tilted his head encouragingly.

"She'd be fifteen now." Grayson nodded, rubbing the letter incised into his forehead, "Part of me hopes she's dead and didn't end up with animals like these..."

"About yea high with brown hair and eyes? Kinda surly?" Morgan asked, holding his hand out to about shoulder height. The young man in front of him had similar coloring.

The look on Grayson's face was stunned hope warring with disbelief. Enid wasn't that common a name.

"Shorter...but it's been almost two years..." he stopped and then asked, haltingly, "She have...was ...is there a little boy with her?"

"I'm sorry son, just her." Rick said, feeling some grudging pity for his loss, watching as the young man's face fell and he bowed his head.

"Guess this changes the plan." Morgan mused, making both Rick and Grayson look over at him.

After a beat Rick nodded, his brow wrinkling thoughtfully, thinking of how he'd felt when Carol and Ty had reunited him with Judith and then gestured at the back seat.

"Lookin' kind of gray all right." Rick sighed in resignation. "Have to leave some room in the back for a passenger."

The former Wolf, who might be their little murderess's brother, looked back and forth between the men who had argued such different ideas about what should be done with him...

And started to cry.

* * *

"You need to wake up now." Carol's whisper was warm, calm, but with a hint of impatience.

She was sitting on Daryl's bed in the infirmary, leaning close to his ear, her hand resting on his shoulder. He was sleeping on his side, the way he seemed most comfortable. Restless, he always came back to that position. His arm was strapped to a stabilizing board so he wouldn't pull the IV out.

"Physically he's doing much better." Erin said quietly as she adjusted his IV drip. "All his vitals are stable—he has a heart like a bull—the antibiotics have knocked down his fever and there's no sign of infection."

"And they'll help if...I mean if he was exposed to any STDs?" Carol asked. There was no telling what kinds of things the monsters who had hurt him might have been harboring.

"It's a broad spectrum antibiotic cocktail. It should knock down pretty much anything. I gave it to all of the Wolves when I was with them. Hopefully that means they were clean and didn't pass on anything to Daryl and the others." Erin said carefully, glancing at Brianna and Riley. "I'm doing cultures to see if anything shows up in their blood work."

Carol nodded. Neither of them said the obvious, the fears that all rape victims had; that there were things like HIV and hepatitis that even the best drugs couldn't stop.

"He's strong Carol—he'll get through this." Erin said encouragingly, coming close so she could reach out and squeeze her shoulder. "You both will."

"Thank you-for all you've done." Carol said brightly, placing her hand over the doctor's.

"How are you feeling?" Erin asked solicitously, noting that the signs of stress that had become so prominent during the time Daryl had been missing had smoothed out and Carol seemed much more at ease. "Morning sickness letting up a little and letting you eat? I ordered you to gain at least five pounds or more before the end of the month."

"Just because I'm happy and pregnant doesn't mean you can boss me around." Carol snorted and dropped her hand. Erin patted her shoulder again and straightened, looking stern.

"You're _pregnant_?" Brianna, the elder of the young blonde women across the room asked incredulously, sitting up in her bed and looking over at Carol with surprise. She'd watched the quiet gray haired woman sit at Daryl's bedside all night, trying to puzzle out their relationship. Was she the new leader of the Zone that they were now in? She seemed to care for him a great deal. Daryl had a lover, _Carol_—Aaron had told her the name—but this woman didn't fit her idea of the _kind_ of woman she'd expected the warrior to have made his.

Carol and Erin looked over at the other woman with identical raised eyebrow and _what business is it of yours? _expressions.

"You're _Carol_?" Brianna asked, "Daryl's woman?" and Carol nodded yes.

"But he's so...muscles and sexy and you're _old._.." Brianna said in confusion. "You have gray hair!"

"I'm only four years older than _him._" Carol said tartly. "And that _isn't_ powdered sugar on his beard."

"_You tell 'er, sweetheart."_ the rasped growl from the man in the bed sounded amused but tired.

"Daryl?" Carol whipped her head back to the bed and saw that his eyes were squinted open and he was looking up at her with a hint of a weary smile.

"_Hey."_ Daryl said, his voice sandpaper rough but strong, "You there or am I here?" he asked, making Carol and Erin frown.

"You're home, back in Alexandria." Carol told him, smiling joyfully and reaching up and pushing his hair back off his face.

"Head feels...kinda floaty..." Daryl mused, his eyes unfocused and his smile going a bit lopsided. "Am I _high_?"

"That's the painkillers, Daryl." Erin told him. "We had to give them to you so you could_... rest_. You've been out about a day and a half."

"Well, least that 'splains it." Daryl said, chuckling and giving a big sigh before raising Carol's hand to his lips to press a sloppy kiss to her knuckles.

"Explains what?" Carol asked, smiling at him.

Daryl looked up at her and seemed to focus better, but then an expression of horrible sadness and grief went over his face and he held her hand so tightly Carol winced.

"You're here..._not dead_...I'm here..." he said softly, in wonder.

"That's right, we're here, and you're home." Carol nodded, smiling at him reassuringly through tears.

"'_Splains it..."_ he mumbled, his eyes drifting shut, starting to fade again.

"Explains what, Daryl?" Carol asked again softly.

"...thought I heard you say you were happy and _pregnant_." Daryl smiled a bit vacantly and then added wistfully, "You happy at my baby in your belly? Said you can't do that..._had_ to be the drugs..." and then he was asleep again.

* * *

_AN: Yes, Brianna was channeling a little TD opinion of Carol there...Notice how Caryl shut her down? heh heh heh. _

_Thanks to whoever recommended my older fic, "Holding On and Letting Go" to the Carylsmut blog! I couldn't figure out why I was getting so many new favorites &amp; follows on it on until I stumbled on the listing on another Tumblr site;-)_


	34. Chapter 34: Can You Love Me Again?

_Daryl wakes and his usual sunny personality (NOT) makes him butt heads with Dr. Yang. Rick and Morgan's return with an extra man causes a problem when an ASZ resident reacts badly._

_Warning: clinical discussion of physical trauma of rape._

* * *

_**Can You Love Me Again? **_

_Now I'm rising from the ground  
__Rising up to you  
__Filled with all the strength I found  
__There's nothing I can't do!_

_I need to know now, know now_  
_Can you love me again?_

_I told you once I can't do this again, do this again, oh, no_

-Writer(s): John Newman, Stephen Andrew Booker  
Copyright: B Unique Music Limited, Cake Records Ltd.

* * *

"She gonna be okay?" Daryl asked hoarsely, rising up on one elbow and forearm to look over at the younger of the two women in the infirmary beds across from him.

Erin looked up from the table near the door where she sat in front of a microscope, taking notes, logging test results, and frowned tiredly. She had made Carol go home to rest, promising they'd watch over Daryl and send someone for her when he woke up again. Tara was stationed on the front porch to screen visitors; it seemed half of Alexandria wanted to come and check on Daryl's progress or get a look at the new people or some combination of both.

Maggie was sitting in a chair next to the girl's bed, reading to her quietly, while the other sister, Brianna, lay in her bed listening, propped up on a couple of pillows, but staring over at Daryl, watching him sleep.

"Don't know yet." Maggie told him, looking over at what Erin was doing and then back at Daryl.

The girl, Riley, who it turned out was only seventeen, had been the subject of such depraved viciousness that even if she recovered from her serious physical injuries, she might never come back from the deep recesses she had fled to within her own mind. Rosita and Maggie had bathed her more thoroughly after her emergency surgery and spent almost an hour trying to untangle her long hair before giving up and trimming it back to a pixie style similar to Carol's. It was honey blonde without the red tones in her sister's, and she had blue eyes that stared sightlessly at times, and at others seemed to close in sleep.

Maggie reached down and brushed a lock of hair back behind Riley's ear, her mouth turned down in a sad bow. She knew the pale skin with bright spots of color on her cheeks meant the girl was fighting a fever. She set down the book and took the fever heated cloth off her forehead and rinsed it in the cold water basin on the small table next to her and reapplied it.

Daryl knew the girl was too much like Maggie's own sister not to make her think of Beth, but he pushed that thought away, unwilling to get caught in that additional undertow of guilt.

"She's a fighter." Brianna said, "She never gave up. Even when we had the chance, she wouldn't let me take the easy way out."

"Easy way?" Maggie frowned at her.

"Opt out." Daryl said, understanding perfectly.

"Make a rope out of what clothes they left us, use the bars, lean in—don't need to be something high up to jump off—you just lean in until it all goes dark..." Brianna said, sounding almost nostalgic, wistful.

Maggie's expression filled with so much pain that she looked like one of those big eyed girls in the kitschy paintings. The talk of suicide cut too close, too deep. She abruptly stood, leaving the book on the chair and hurried towards the door.

"I'll go tell Carol he's up." Maggie murmured to Erin, quick and low in passing and then she was gone.

Brianna seemed puzzled at her abrupt departure and looked to Daryl for an explanation.

Ignoring her, he pushed himself into a sitting position on the side of the bed where he was attached to the IV pole and pulled back the sheet and blanket covering him. He swung his legs over the side, but then gripped the side of the bed with both hands, closing his eyes as a wave of dizziness stopped him.

"Need my fuckin' _pants_." Daryl grunted as his bare toes brushed across the cold tile floor.

"No you don't." Erin said mildly.

"M' awake." Daryl said forcefully, "I wanna be ready to go when she gets here."

"You're not going anywhere unless it's to the toilet." Erin said acerbically. "I'd _relish_ one less bed pan to empty."

Daryl did in fact have to piss like a racehorse from all the IV shit they'd been pumping into him, but he wasn't about to parade his bare ass in the damn hospital gown for the whole place to see while he did it. He fidgeted in the bed enough to make Erin sigh and push back from the desk to come help him.

She brought him a second gown to put on backwards, covering him more fully, accomplishing it while he was still sitting and then re-snapping the sleeve and shoulder to avoid the IV. When he stood he felt the gown slide down to cover him front and back and gave a little sigh of relief.

When the bathroom door closed behind them both, Daryl side-eyed her as he gripped the side of the sink. When she pulled two small plastic containers with lids out of the big pockets in her white coat he shook his head back and forth.

"No fuckin' way." he scowled. Couldn't a man even piss in peace?

"One is for urine, one is for feces." Erin said in a clinical but somehow sympathetic tone, setting them within his reach on the counter next to the toilet. "I need to see if there is any occult blood or any sign of infection in them. You had severe trauma to your torso, penis, testicles and anus. If there is internal injury to your kidneys and/or urinary tract, I need to know. This is one of the ways I will know, okay? I also need to know where you're having pain, _anywhere_, especially on elimination."

"It's gonna hurt like hell for about two weeks." Daryl said in a small colorless voice, looking anywhere but at her, leaning harder on the sink. "Stuff for whatta ya call 'em? Piles? Helps."

"Hemorrhoids." Erin said, nodding. "Preparation H; I think I saw some in the ointment bins." she stared at him, the unasked question, how he came by that particular bit of remedy knowledge, hanging between them until he finally turned his head back, glaring back at her.

"That it?" he bit out, willing his legs to stop trembling.

"Carol gave me your medical history, as much as she knows..." Erin said tentatively, "Claire is going to come by as well, now that you're up."

Daryl just stared back at her. Of course the head shrinker would want to get her claws into him sooner rather than later when all he wanted to do was just get on with it, his life. He'd been higher than a kite when he first woke up, but he knew Carol understood; she hadn't looked at him or treated him any differently and that was all that mattered. No matter what had happened, whatever devils either of them faced, they always had each other.

When Yang made no move to leave he started to realize that she was planning on staying there to watch him, or watch _over_ him...

"_Get out."_ Daryl snarled, "Ain't gonna fall over and ain't gonna _off_ myself. Just want to piss and take a shit like a big boy, all by myself."

Erin looked over at the specimen cups with a question in her gaze.

"Know how to do it—had enough drug tests when my asshole brother got us arrested." Daryl said with derision.

"Call for me when you're done." Erin said, somewhat reluctantly agreeing to leave him unsupervised.

A knock on the door brought both their heads up.

"_Occupied!"_ Daryl yelled, motioning again for Yang to leave.

"_Daryl?"_ Carol's anxious voice came from behind the door.

Erin and he shared a look; he gave her a sharp back and forth shake of his head and the doctor pursed her lips, but she opened the door and slipped out, closing it before Carol could go in.

"He's fine—just wanted some privacy." Erin said reassuringly.

"Should he even be up?" Brianna asked, sounding concerned, but making both Erin and Carol smile and chuckle.

"With Daryl it's not so much a question of _should he_ but how would you even try to stop him?" Carol said dryly.

Erin went back to her work, leaving Carol standing at the bathroom door. From the sounds within she could tell he was doing all right, no crashes or swear tirades, only a few small sounds of discomfort that made her wince with empathy. She knew exactly what he was going through.

"_Care?"_ his quiet call for her, using what sounded like a pet version of her name, made her blink back tears. She took a deep breath and answered in a warm tone.

"Right here. What do you need?"

"You." he answered, sounding so weary she smiled a little.

Carol went inside and found him still sitting, his hands shaking so much he couldn't get the lid back on the second specimen cup. She gently helped him wash his hands and then stand, leaning heavily on her.

Daryl rested his chin on the top of her head and then leaned down, nuzzling her hair.

"_Take me home."_ Daryl murmured, using the arm not hooked to the IV to hold her close.

"Soon as Erin says. She's taking good care of you. " Carol assured him and he made a low growling sound in his throat.

"Just want _you_." he pleaded and could feel the tears at the back of his throat trying to drown him, that undertone of guilt and pain dragging him down. "Wanna go _home_...with _you_..._please_..."

"I'll ask her." Carol conceded and felt him press a rough kiss to the side of her head and make a relieved sound. "Now let's get you back to bed."

"'K." he said mildly, and with a little grunt let her move him forward and out the door.

* * *

"Clear the gates!" Carl yelled from the watch tower platform. Aaron's red car was barreling down the road pulling a small U-Haul, heading for the ASZ entrance, but there were about a dozen walkers milling around it trying to claw their way in somehow. The church tower sniper started quickly taking them out as did Carl and Michonne, who was on the other gate platform.

When they were all down, Glenn opened the large metal gate far enough for the car to come through, quickly shutting it after them. The car shuddered to a stop and the driver side door flew open, disgorging Rick who immediately yelled for his son, who was halfway down the steps.

"_Carl?"_ only the call sounded more like "coral" in his sandpaper rough twang.

The two other men got out of the car, witnessing the reunion between father and son, the crushing hug, with opposite reactions. One felt a bitter longing and the other a frisson of hope that he would soon have the same sort of greeting.

"Why the hell is _he_ here?" Michonne said, drawing her sword to stop the former Wolf from taking another step forward.

Grayson anxiously scanned the forming crowd, but saw no signs of his sister.

"He might have family here." Rick said to her and then returned his gaze to his son. "Where's Enid?"

"Garden, digging potatoes." Carl said, looking over at the young man that had come back with them. "Who's he?"

"Might be her brother—she say anything about another one? Not just a baby?" Rick asked.

"She doesn't talk much about her family." Carl shook his head. All he really knew was that she had her mom's knife and her little brother was dead.

"All right—you go get her and bring her home—don't tell her why. Take her inside and I'll bring him to the porch so she can see him without him seeing her, that way if he's not who he says he is she doesn't get her hopes up." Rick told him.

Carl nodded; pleased his father was taking Enid's feelings into consideration. He knew she, Ron and he had a long way to go before they earned everyone's trust back after what they had done.

As soon as he took off running, the last person that they wanted knowing about their new arrival charged onto the scene.

"What the fuck is one of _them_ doing here?" an anguished, furious Spencer Monroe yelled. Morgan and Michonne bodily blocked him from attacking Grayson and Rick moved in, putting his hand on the young man's back, trying to calm him.

"You don't want to do this, Spencer." Rick said, his voice full of compassion.

The fist he got in reply glanced off his jaw, knocking his head back. Morgan sprang into action, getting an arm around Spencer's throat and kicking the back of his knees, swiftly taking him down and holding him there on his knees, struggling.

"You need to calm down, son." Morgan said calmly, applying a little more pressure to his choke hold.

Michonne stood, sword still up, in a defensive posture in front of the other young man, frowning at the scene, but on board with what Rick was trying to do in reuniting a family.

"_Lemme go!_ These monsters killed my mother, tortured Daryl and Aaron! Why did you bring him here?" Spencer gasped, struggling against Morgan's arm.

"You gonna stop fighting and listen to what the man has to say?" Morgan asked' "Or do you need to take a little nap?"

The very real threat made Spencer stop. Rick squatted down in front of him so he could be eye to eye.

"You're entitled. You lost everyone. I know that." Rick said, putting his hand on Spencer's shoulder, giving him that good old boy sincere sheriff look, a little eye squint, a little sad frown. Then he tilted his head to the side and continued. "But this boy didn't kill your mother. They took him just like they took Daryl and Aaron. He _helped _us."

"I'm sorry...about your mom." Grayson said suddenly, looking around Michonne. "I lost everybody too...except maybe not my sister—she might be here. I just want to know...if she's alive..."

Spencer didn't respond, but he did visibly relax Morgan's hold on him.

Morgan looked to Rick, seeing if he agreed to release Monroe and Rick nodded in assent. Spencer stood and turned to face Grayson.

"Your sister?" Spencer asked, and when the other young man nodded, he added in an Antarctic voice, "I hope she's dead." and then he stalked away, heading towards the cemetery, where his family waited.

"Follow him." Rick said to Michonne, who nodded and sheathed her katana before moving after Monroe. He tossed the car keys to Glenn. "Got lots of good stuff."

"On it." Glenn said, catching the keys out of the air.

"Wait ten minutes and then bring him to my house." Rick said to Morgan, indicating Grayson. Then he headed out, striding down the street.

"He the boss now?" Grayson asked, running a shaky hand through his hair.

"We'll see." Morgan said, his narrowed eyes following Rick.

* * *

"It's potato and leek soup." Olivia said, smiling at Tara. "I pureed the vegetables in the batch for Daryl and the girls though—Eugene said chewing might be hard for them—I brought regular for you and Erin and Maggie, and some of today's bread."

"Maggie left, Carol's here now." Tara said, inhaling the tantalizing aroma of the bread escaping from the towel covered wicker laundry basket Olivia had used to transport her bounty.

"Oh good!" Olivia said. "How is she feeling? She needs to eat more—eating for two—she's too thin! Don't you think so? Not knowing if Daryl was dead or alive was _so_ stressful for her!"

"Um—go ahead in." Tara said, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the woman's chatter.

"I'll bring your soup back out in a bit, honey." Olivia said, smiling brightly as she walked on by and headed inside.

"Not happening. As a matter of fact I should keep _both_ of you here." Erin said, caught in mid-argument by Olivia's entrance.

Carol was standing in front of Erin, both of them next to Daryl's bed where he sat, refusing to lie back down.

Daryl looked more closely at Carol, noticing for the first time how pale and thin her face was, the dark circles under her eyes. Before he had left she was back to wearing the boots he loved and more form fitting clothes, but now she could hardly see her body, hidden by the bulky flannel shirt she wore.

"Hello!" Olivia said, looking around the room uncertainly, but deciding to brazen through the tension she felt, she smiled brightly and lifted her basket. "Soup's on!"

Erin looked at her gratefully and nodded, going over to check on Riley.

"We're not done." Carol warned Erin and pursed her lips. She went over to Daryl and fixed his pillows so he could sit up with his back against the headboard, helping him adjust his position by putting his legs back up on the bed. Then she pulled the chair there closer and sat, talking with him in a low voice and holding his hand.

In the meantime, Olivia moved into the kitchen area, washing her hands and then taking out a loaf of crusty already sliced bread and two small crock pots of soup which she plugged into the wall so they'd stay hot. Next she got out the spoons and big low mugs to be used as bowls and started dishing out the portions. After loading them on a serving tray, she went to Erin first, then Brianna, both of whom thanked her. She gave Riley a sad glance before going to Carol and Daryl.

"It's so nice to see you feeling better!" Olivia said to Daryl somewhat timidly, "We're glad to have you home." She held out a mug of soup to him, but he didn't take it.

Daryl's struggle to remain civil showed on his face, but he was able to manage a terse thank you and a brief glance up at her.

Carol felt his hand shaking and knew he didn't want to show that weakness to the other woman by reaching for the soup, so she lifted her free hand and took the cup instead. Unfortunately as soon as she did, the smell hit her.

It was a lovely soup, delicious with a warm chicken stock broth, a bit of finely chopped ham and oniony leeks to liven it up without being too spicy, but when it hit her nose Carol's stomach immediately rejected the whole basic _concept_ of soup. She pulled her hand from Daryl's, shoved the mug back at Olivia and covering her mouth, bolted for the bathroom.

"_Carol?"_ Daryl tried to go after her, but Erin was there, pushing him back down.

"Your IV!" the doctor reminded him and he swore, threatening to pull it out.

"Fuck it! What the hell's _wrong_ with her?" Daryl demanded, "She looks like shit!"

"Glad to see you finally noticed!" Erin said scathingly.

The sound of Carol's retching in the bathroom filled the silence that followed.

"She's sick?" Daryl asked, looking up at Erin with cold fear, imagining cancer or any number of other incurable things that would make Carol look and act that way.

Erin stared back, knowing it was Carol's news to tell him, but wanting to dispel his worry.

"She'll be fine, but you two need to talk." Erin looked over at Olivia and Brianna, both looking at Daryl, brimming to blurt out the truth that _they_ had already heard but he hadn't, and knew she needed to get them out of the room.

The sound of the toilet flushing and bathroom sink water running pushed her to action.

"I think we'll have our supper in the actual dining room tonight, ladies." Erin said with a meaningful look to the other women. After another quick check of Riley's vitals showed she was stable, Brianna was quickly loaded into a wheelchair and the food gathered up so that when Carol finally emerged, Daryl was the only awake person in the room.

Carol made her way back to Daryl's bedside and sat down next to him, drawing her legs up to stretch them out beside his. She took his hand and now it was a toss-up as to whose was shaking more.

"Just tell me." Daryl said.

Keeping her eyes on his, Carol lifted his hand and placed it palm down on the swell of her abdomen.

Daryl flinched, unable to believe what she seemed to be telling him. He found the hem of her shirt and lifted it, sliding his hand underneath until he found the soft taut skin of her belly, spreading his fingers wide over the rounded expanse and looking at her with hope and fear.

Her face scrunched up in a smile that fought with tears and she nodded yes.

Daryl's breath came out all in a rush and he looked down at her middle, his hand gently resting over the early evidence of their child inside. Then he looked back up at her, his eyes full of worry.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Gotta be." she teased back their standard evasive answer to the question.

"You sure?" he said, knowing she would understand that he meant more than just her health. She'd told him she couldn't do this again; she couldn't find room in her heart for another child. But that had been before Sam had somehow found a way through her walls.

"I'm happy." she told him, and then gave a choked laugh, "and terrified."

"Yeah." Daryl agreed, smiling back at her ruefully, "That about sums it up."

They stared at each other, the love they each felt reflected back at them.

"Can I see?" he asked shyly, rubbing a circle over her there with his big hand.

Carol pulled her shirt up so he could see the little potbelly and he removed his hand, leaned closer and kissed her there, right above her belly button and then rested his cheek against it. She put her hand on his head in her lap, playing her fingers through the soft thick strands of his mane of hair.

"_We're okay."_

* * *

AN: Yes, I snuck a little lap scene in there right at the end. I think it seemed appropriate;-)

Thanks for reading!


	35. Chapter 35: Brothers and Sisters

_Three months after the defeat of the Wolves, the residents of the ASZ face new challenges as their population grows and they face a difficult winter._

* * *

_**Brothers and Sisters**_

_**February: Three Months Later**_

"And I'm telling you, if we get a herd of any size building up out there, those pilings have to be concrete or it's not going to hold!" Abraham yelled, the veins in his neck standing out like vines climbing an arbor.

"We don't have _time_. This new section of the wall should've been finished a week ago—you've been behind schedule for two months." Maggie replied tersely, the high color on her cheeks betraying her flash of temper.

""It's still too cold for the concrete to set properly. I won't compromise the safety of us all just to meet some artificial deadline you and your boss set up months ago." Abraham shot back.

"We have more people than we can house and more coming in every day—we need this expansion or we're going to have to start turning people away." Maggie fumed. "Is that what you want me to do? Just tell them there's no room at the inn and send them on their way?"

"And I'm telling you we can't just rely on Sasha and her sniper unit to take out a threat of the size of a herd like we saw outside that city in the stock yards. The walls have to be able to withstand a herd that massive or we're all just fooling ourselves." Abraham said stubbornly.

"I think what Abe is trying to say—"Eric began, but Glenn spoke over him:

"Maggie's point is that—"

"We're in an untenable situation, Rick." Carol said, shutting them both down. "With this cold weather we can't put people in tents—we've had several bad cases of frostbite on the most recent arrivals that've been living rough. If we did get overrun, we don't have enough shelter space for everyone. It's going to be like the Titanic lifeboats and I don't think you want to be making those kinds of choices."

"The recruiting process has totally broken down." Aaron said. Neither he, Morgan nor Daryl had been out for the last month. The weather had been unusually harsh for Virginia this winter which meant ice and snow covered roads and no plows or salt. They had a few snowmobiles and ATVs, but those were reserved for emergencies since gas was also low.

Also, recruiting was basically a moot point when the word was out that the place was a safe haven. People had been trickling in for weeks, saying that they'd heard about the ASZ from "traders" who sounded suspiciously like some of the people they had turned back months ago when they had tried to scale the walls at night rather than seek admission by coming to the front gate.

"How can we turn people away now?" Glenn asked, looking around the table, "What would've happened to me, to Maggie—to Judith and Carl or Riley? Not to mention Felicia and her baby, if you hadn't let us in?"

Riley had remained in her fugue state for two weeks, but had slowly started becoming more aware after that. She was still fragile, needing weekly sessions with Claire, and preferred to spend most of her time working at the day care with Judith and the other infants, or at the school with the kids like Sam, avoiding most contact with men.

Enid had befriended her, sharing her comic books, and through that relationship she was starting to feel comfortable enough to talk to Carl and Ron.

Felicia's delivery had strained all of their medical capabilities. She had almost bled out during the caesarian section when she unexpectedly came out of anesthesia too soon, her agonized movements causing Erin to knick an artery.

They'd held Felicia down while Rosita quickly put her back under, as Erin finished the delivery and then worked to repair the blood vessel, but she had needed eight units of blood. They only had four on hand, so there was a mad search for donors, who lined up outside the door at Maggie's frantic call.

Alone with only Claire, on the outside where Daryl and Aaron had found them, mother and child probably wouldn't have survived.

Daryl kept his worried glance on Carol, who was resting one hand on the curve of her abdomen, hidden a bit by the oversized Irish fisherman's sweater she wore against the chill. A deep azure blue, it had been knit for her by Olivia and given as a Christmas present. She'd used the same yarn to make Daryl a scarf, which he wore, wrapped around his neck and tucked into the collar of his coat and vest. He'd been touched by the gift; wearing it daily was his way of thanking her.

At five and a half months Carol's bump was plainly visible, which brought her some whispered comments and outright stares from some of the newest people. Several of the new women were quite interested in the prospect of snagging Daryl and wanted to know just exactly what the story was with him and Carol.

If Olivia was their orientation mentor she shut it down, but Brianna was another story. She did her work assignment competently enough, but fancied herself the self-styled gossip maven of the Zone, and her favorite topic was holding forth on people's relationships, especially Carol and Daryl's.

Daryl was _her _hero, she would tell them. Brianna loved recounting the story of how he had sacrificed himself in the Wolf camp, making it sound as though he had done it just _for_ _her_ because he had instantly fallen in love with her.

Being the honorable man he was though, Brianna explained to her rapt listeners, when they returned to the Zone and he found out his best friend and convenient bed partner was pregnant he gave up his true love to stay with the older woman who was more of a sister to him than anything else.

When _her _sister, Riley, had finally told Enid the delusional story Brianna was spreading, she told Carl, who in turn went to Daryl this morning. Furious, he had gone to the Orientation Center and confronted the girl about her lies. Instead of backing down she had begged him not to stop meeting her for their secret trysts, telling him she understood how much he needed her since he couldn't bring himself to have sex with Carol.

Daryl and Carol _hadn't _made love since he'd returned from the Wolves, but it had nothing to do with Brianna. He had barely spoken to the girl since they'd spent those few days in the Infirmary together three months ago.

He'd come close to hitting the girl, had left bruises on her arms from how tightly he'd grabbed and gripped them before shoving her away when she tried to kiss him. When he turned to storm out, he saw Carol standing in the doorway. The doubt he saw in her eyes almost knocked him to his knees.

She'd come to find him to go to the Council meeting and quietly said so, then turned and left.

Daryl went after her, but all she would say was that he needed to go talk to Claire after the meeting and that she'd see him at home later.

Carol felt his eyes on her, as they had been through most of the meeting, and she returned his gaze for the first time since sitting down. Her eyes were wide and sad, but she gave him a small smile before looking over at Maggie who had started to speak again.

Daryl chewed the inside of his lower lip until he tasted blood.

"Isn't there any other way to stabilize the walls more quickly without concrete?" Maggie asked Abraham.

"There are some kinds of concrete that will set up underwater. The ancient Romans had it." Sam said from the doorway behind them, "I remember reading about it in history class. Maybe there's a kind that will in the cold?"

He'd been in the next room, coming there after school, waiting for Carol to finish so he could walk her home. Everyone looked at him and then at Abraham.

"_Mother Dick..._out of the mouths of babes..." the big man laughed, "He could be right."

"All right, I think I've heard enough." Rick said, sitting up straighter in his chair. He was at the head of the long table in the former Monroe home's dining room. Spencer hadn't wanted to keep living there so it had been turned into an ad hoc town hall.

"Maggie, see if any of the new people have engineering backgrounds. Glenn, get the older school kids and start searching through Reg's books and computer for anything on concrete." Rick set out the tasks and then he looked around the table.

Michonne came in and went straight to Rick, leaning down to whisper something to him and he looked up, finding Daryl and furrowing his brow.

"Daryl? I need a minute." Rick said, "The rest of you, back to work."

While everyone else got up and started to scatter, Daryl stayed where he was, across the table from Carol, following her with his eyes as she stood and gave Sam a big hug and then took his hand. She met Daryl's eyes again, tilting her head slightly, returning his tiny crooked smile and then let Sam's excited chatter draw her attention, leaving the room with him, followed by the last to go, Michonne.

"You okay, brother?" Rick asked.

"She tell you what happened?" Daryl asked, nodding his head towards Michonne's retreating back.

"No truth to it, right?" Rick said, his head starting its side lean, staring at Daryl, his eyes narrowed.

"You think I'm fucking that sad messed up girl?" Daryl asked coldly, inwardly seething.

"Understand me: Carol's family; anyone hurts her I come after them." Rick said, staring Daryl down.

"_Same."_ Daryl growled; standing and pushing his chair back with a loud scrape before grabbing his bow and stalking out of the room.

* * *

"You don't understand anything." Enid said mildly, watching an embarrassed Carl head up the stairs with two heavy burlap sacks in his arms.

"You can't just keep _both_ of those boys on a string, Niddy—it's gonna cause problems." Grayson said, frowning at his sister.

He'd just caught her kissing Carl in the Pantry basement where they were supposed to be bagging potatoes to distribute to the households. Last night he'd seen her holding hands under the dinner table with Ron while Carl was at the other end of the table feeding Judith.

"Don't do this, sis." Grayson said quietly. "This kind of thing doesn't just hurt feelings—these days people don't have any limits—one of them might hurt you...I'm just trying to protect you."

"Gray—both those boys watched their mothers die right in front of them. We're sixteen years old and _we_ might die tomorrow. Ron adores Riley but she's so afraid of anyone male she can't even hold his hand without crying so he thinks there's something wrongwith _him_!" Enid explained.

"But if Carl sees you holding hands with Ron—"

"Carl's dad _killed_ Ron's—if they can get over that I don't think a little hand holding is going to bother them." Enid told him, and then she grinned, "Besides, I've seen them hold hands sometimes too."

Grayson's eyebrows rose at that and she laughed and took his hand.

"They're as close as bothers; they're like _my_ brothers too, Gray. We all help each other through this." Enid said gently.

"What I just caught you two doing in the basement didn't look like a peck on the cheek you'd give your brother..." Gray said, narrowing his eyes at her.

"We're growing up in the apocalypse—don't you think we deserve a little fun?" Enid asked, poking him in the side with her elbow and grinning up at him.

"_Niddy..."_

"Carl and me—it's more, Gray." she told him.

"He your _boyfriend_ then?" Grayson pushed.

"Maybe. I like him, he likes me." Enid shrugged.

"More than kissing liking?" Gray asked, "Because if he _tries_ something—"

"Carl and me are _not_ fucking, big brother." Enid rolled her eyes at him.

"_Hey_, language, young lady!" Grayson admonished her.

"You are such a priss." she teased back lightly, squeezing his hand. She had learned a little of what he had been forced to do as a prisoner and then an involuntary member of the Wolf Pack at the mercy of their leader. They both knew they were just playing at being normal.

The idea that she could be a regular teenage girl, sharing innocent kisses with a boyfriend was a relic from days gone by. Both of them had done things, horrible things, to survive. No one was innocent any more. Even baby Judith's birth had killed her mother.

"Just be careful, Niddy." Grayson said, pulling her into a hug.

"Always, Gray." Enid assured him, hugging back and then shoving him away playfully. "Now come on—you chased away my help so you just volunteered to carry a big _shitload _of potatoes for me."

Grayson side-eyed her, but followed her back down to the basement.

* * *

"Do you know what they call people who love one another and live together, but don't have sex?" Claire asked.

"_What?"_ Daryl bit out, imagining there was some fancy technical psychology term she was going to lay on him.

"Brothers and sisters." Claire said, pursing her lips at him.

This was a private counseling session for Daryl. He'd just explained his side of the incident with Brianna, which differed greatly from what the sobbing girl had told Claire when she was brought to see her by Michonne immediately after it happened.

Daryl scowled and looked away.

"You had a deep friendship with Carol for how long before you became involved?" Claire prompted.

"You already know all this." Daryl said stubbornly. They'd discussed their backgrounds in detail with her during the earlier counseling sessions focusing on their abuse.

"Humor me." Claire requested. "You met in Atlanta..."

"Outside the city. Right after the Turn. At an abandoned quarry. I was with my asshole brother and she was with her asshole husband, who would be dead in a couple of days and her little girl who would be dead in a couple more." Daryl said in a testsy monotone.

"What did you think of her when you first saw her?"

"What did I _think_ of her?" Daryl frowned.

"Were you attracted to her?" Claire asked evenly.

"Weren't like that." Daryl scowled, "Felt sorry for her n' Sophia, havin' someone hurtin' them."

"Just like your mother and you."

"First she's my sister and now she's my _mother_?" Daryl snorted sarcastically.

"When her daughter went missing, you told me you searched for her; almost died doing it." Claire said. "Why did you care what happened to her?"

"Little girl goes missing, you look for her." Daryl said as if that was self evident. That no one had looked for him when the same thing happened went _un_said.

"You cared what happened to Sophia." Claire pressed. "What it would mean to Carol if you found her?"

"Yeah...a'course...Sophia was...I dunno, hope? Finding her meant something to all of us." Daryl allowed. He hadn't been ready to admit that even back then Carol's opinion of him meant more than any of the others had.

"And when she came out of the barn you held Carol back, protected her."

Daryl nodded, wincing as he remembered the terrible sound of her sobs echoing in the silent barnyard.

"But then you distanced yourself, tried to pull away, but she wouldn't let you."

"Woman's pushy as hell when she's got somethin' in her mind to do." Daryl said with a wry smile.

"So even though you failed to save her child, she still cared about what happened to you."

Daryl sobered. Carol had confused the hell out of him back then. He hadn't understood what she had seen in him, why she would make the effort. He'd slowly come to realize that she respected him...the first person to ever give him that. The others had come around to it after, when they'd seen what he could contribute to the group, but she'd been there long before the rest.

"But you were her hero at other times—you saved her—twice, right? At the Farm and at the prison?" Claire asked.

"She ain't helpless." Daryl countered, snorting, "She fought off walkers both times, stayed alive 'til I could find her. She saved us _all _at Terminus."

"But you _weren't_ able to save Maggie's sister—a girl you took on responsibility for after her father was killed." Claire asked, shifting gears, "And you were violated and almost killed shielding two other girls from the Wolves. How did that make you feel?"

"I did the best I could." Daryl said, his voice flat, his gut churning, flashes of the thick red puddle of blood and brains spreading out from Beth's head on the hallway floor in Grady mixing with the searing pain and degradation of being used, throwing up blood and semen on the cold concrete floor of that basement cell when Aaron had gently tried to give him water...

"Daryl, how do you feel about _this_ child—the one Carol is carrying?"

"It's our baby." Daryl blinked hard and then frowned at her, thrown by the sudden change in topic; unsure of what she expected him to say.

"What if we're overrun and you can't save this child?" Claire asked, "Or its mother when the time comes?"

"I would die for them." Daryl said, his voice infused with unflinchingly direct honesty.

"So their lives are worth more than yours."

"Of course they are." Daryl said in the same tone.

"Daryl, are you afraid of hurting Carol and the baby?" Claire asked.

"_Hurt_ them?" Daryl asked, "I'd never!" and then he stopped, realizing what she might be thinking. He was a violent man. He was capable of more than she could even imagine if his family was threatened. "Look, I didn't mean to go off on Brianna like that, but she's a lying little... and the things she was sayin' right there in front of Carol—"

"What she was saying was hurtful to Carol." Claire nodded, "You were protecting her."

Daryl nodded back, glad to see she understood.

"Brianna has her own issues we're trying to manage." Claire told him, "I'll see to it that she's kept away from you both."

"Appreciate it." Daryl gave a little dismissive grunt and started to stand up.

"Are you happy with the way things have been since you returned?" Claire asked him and Daryl's mouth twisted as he sat back down. He stared at the pattern of the Oriental carpet for a long time before looking back up at the therapist and shaking his head back and forth.

"Are you afraid making love to Carol would hurt the baby?" Claire continued her questions, "Or are you afraid she won't want you after what happened with the Wolves?"

"_Afraid to even try."_ Daryl said in almost a whisper. What if he had a flashback and hurt her? What if she just _didn't_ _want_ _him _anymore?

"Daryl, everything that's happened to you, compounded with what you survived as a child has to make things confusing for you. While you recovered physically and she got through the first trimester it was perfectly right that you not resume your physical relationship. But Dr. Yang has given you both a clean bill of health—there's no _physical_ reason you shouldn't be together."

"But how do I...what do I even say to her?" Daryl asked, his vulnerability palpable.

"Well, you can start by sharing a bed again." Claire told him, raising her eyebrow at him.

"How did you—"

"Brianna." Claire said, "She overhead Sam telling Riley that you slept on Carol's bedroom floor guarding her all night so he didn't have to anymore."

Sam had taken it upon himself to protect Carol and the baby while Daryl had been held captive. She'd had a mattress brought in so he didn't have to sleep on the actual hard floor. Daryl had taken it over when he'd finally been allowed to go home from the Infirmary.

"What if _she_ doesn't want me there? What if—" Daryl began; starting to get choked up, his chin dropping to his chest, but Claire reached out and gripped his hand.

"Daryl, why do you think she told you to come see me today?" Claire asked gently.

Daryl's head came up, the start of hope shining in his eyes.

* * *

_AN:__ Even Carol's patience and understanding has its limits... I told you to watch out for Brianna._

_Comics Spoiler: Having concrete footings on the ASZ walls is an important plot point in the comics story "No Way Out." When a section of the wall starts to collapse without them, letting a mega-herd in, it sets up a lot of changes, including Jessie's death. I have a feeling this may be what we'll see happen in S6 on the show as well._

_Thanks for sticking with me!_


	36. Chapter 36: Just the Way You Are

_The extended Grimes household gets a new addition and Carol comes home to find Daryl waiting in their room after his session with Claire._

_Trigger warning:__ Frank discussion of rape and sexual abuse._

* * *

_**Just the Way You Are**_

_I would not leave you in times of trouble  
We never could have come this far  
I took the good times, I'll take the bad times  
I'll take you just the way you are_

-Writer(s): Kesleah Hall, Billy Joel  
Copyright: Impulsive Music, Word Music LLC

* * *

"What's this?" Rick asked as he saw Ron and Carl carrying a twin sized mattress down the stairs. They were followed by Sam, Enid and Riley, who was carrying giggling Judith. The blonde girl shied back behind Enid when she saw Rick.

"Daryl said we could have it." Carl said. "Enid and Riley are gonna share our old room and Ron and Sam and me are moving down to the basement with Gray."

"Riley?" Rick frowned, "Something happen over at Claire and Felicia's place?" Brianna and Riley had moved in with the two women after they'd been released from the Infirmary. The idea was for Claire to be better able to monitor their mental states, but after the baby had been born he'd kept them so busy it hadn't been the most practical arrangement.

Brianna and Daryl's run in today had escalated things in a couple of different ways. It had sent Daryl to see Claire, but it had also led to Brianna accusing Riley of betraying her by siding with Carol and keeping Brianna and Daryl apart.

Carl set down his end of the mattress and came close to his father, speaking softly.

"Her sister doesn't want her there, dad. She was real mean about it too."

"I want her _here_, Mr. Grimes, she's my friend." Enid told him, putting her arm around the other girl.

"She's all our friend." Ron said, looking shyly at Riley.

"Daryl was okay with this?" Rick asked, remembering how upset he'd been when the first three had arrived.

"He gave us the mattress." Sam piped up, patting the side of the aforementioned object.

"Claire said it was a good idea for Riley to live here." Carl said, adding, "And Judith likes her."

Rick ran his hand back through his hair and sighed at them all.

"Well, if Judith approves, who am I to argue?" he finally shrugged, briefly wondering if Grayson was aware he was about to be invaded.

The young man had proven himself in the months since he'd joined them. He'd been an auto mechanic before the Turn, a fact that had made him as valuable to them as to the Wolves. He helped keep the vehicles, such as they were, running, and had set up a repair shop of sorts in the garage of this house, where people could bring their broken appliances.

Gray's dark good looks had turned a few heads, but he spent his free time with his long lost sister and her friends, playing board games, reading and debating over comics and video games and generally just being the kid that he hadn't been allowed to be since the Turn. His basement room was a sort of club house for the teenagers, so having them sleep there as well probably wasn't that much of a stretch. Everyone had to squeeze tighter the more people who arrived. At least this way it wasn't a group of potentially dangerous strangers invading.

"I don't want to be coming around telling you all to be quiet and to go to sleep all the time." Rick warned, "This isn't a big ol'slumber party. You got jobs and school and there are adults who need their sleep livin' here too."

"Yes sir." Enid said solemnly, but couldn't stop the big smile that broke over her usually dead pan face.

Riley came out from behind her friends and cautiously inched towards Rick, returning his daughter to him. Calling on every last shred of bravery she had, she raised her eyes to his as he took Judith from her.

"_Thank you."_ the girl said softly and quickly leaned up to kiss his cheek and then shrunk back, looking back to the floor, frozen in place until Enid moved up beside her and took her hand.

"You're welcome, honey." Rick said gently, his throat closing up at the sudden remembrance of another girl thanking him the same way for bringing her sister back.

As the mattress parade made its way down to the basement, Rick looked to the upstairs steps. He hoped that whatever had happened with Riley's sister's accusations today had been resolved between his friends. They'd both been through enough hell without someone trying to come between them.

The sound of the front door locks being opened sent him back across the room to the foyer, where he met a very tired looking Carol and Michonne.

"Everyone settled?" Rick asked. He'd expected them home earlier, but there had been another group of arrivals at the gate soon after the Council meeting. Michonne had gone to help with intake while Carol substituted for her shift at the Armory. Until newcomers had seen the doctor and given a clean bill of health, Carol wasn't allowed around them.

"Two women and a little boy in fairly good shape; they'll be in quarantine a few days." Michonne said, pulling off her leather gloves and stuffing them in her pockets. "Boy's a little younger than Sam; women are mother and daughter, say they walked from Bethesda."

"Everybody else in for the night?" Carol asked, seeing no sign of the kids or Daryl, pulling her gloves, scarf, hat and coat off and hanging them on the hooks by the door. Judith reached for her and Carol smiled, taking the little girl, who cuddled into her neck sleepily.

"Kids are all downstairs—doing a little rearranging—we have a new member of the tribe." Rick told them. Both women raised a questioning brow at that news.

"Who?" Michonne asked, pulling her katana over her head and propping it against the wall while she removed her jacket and hung it next to Carol's.

"Riley. Seems her sister didn't take kindly to her spilling the beans about..." Rick looked to Carol, wincing uncomfortably "...to Daryl today..."

"I didn't like how he man-handled Brianna when he confronted her." Michonne said, looking at Carol as well, with concern. "She had bruises on her arms from it...I know what she said made him angry, but with what she's already been through..."

"What they've _both_ been through." Rick observed. "She's trying to cope with it in her way and so is he."

"She created her own reality... and he shuts down and lashes out—that's what he does—you know that's what he does." Carol said, rocking Judith in a slight sway as she spoke.

"Carol—do you feel safe with him after this?" Rick asked. He meant what he'd said to Daryl after the meeting today. They'd had their differences in the past but Carol was family.

"I asked him to go see Claire. I had concerns before what happened today." Carol said. A few well-meaning or perhaps malicious people had dropped hints to her that Daryl was being unfaithful. She'd actually been worried that he was acting out sexually. She had read that sometimes rape victims devalued themselves so much that they became promiscuous as a way of self harm. Learning today the rumors had been deliberately and obviously _falsely_ generated by Brianna had been a relief.

Since he'd left the Infirmary and come home he'd flinched away from even the gentlest touches. What they'd shared when she told him about the baby had been the last time he had voluntarily touched her except to make sure she kept her footing going down the stairs or crossing the street in a crowd, when he'd place a guiding hand oh so briefly on her arm or back.

She missed the relationship they had been building before all of this happened. Claire and she had discussed what to expect as he worked through what had happened to him and she knew they had a long way to go, but she was also fighting her own desires. Pregnancy hormones were trying to hijack her brain. Looking at him, breathing in his scent, sleeping in the same room but never being allowed to just slip into his bed, to touch him the way she craved, was making her slowly lose her mind. Claire had told her what she was feeling was natural and she shouldn't be ashamed of wanting the man she loved. It would take time, but with love and understanding they could recapture that passion.

Carol wasn't so sure. As far as she could tell, he seemed to have no sexual feelings what so ever, towards her or anyone else. That part of him was completely shut down, much as it had been when they first met.

His intense anger when faced with Brianna's lies had seemed to overcome his inability to touch, but the idea of having to provoke him to that level of emotion to get him to touch her sounded about as smart as letting the pilot light on a stove go out and then lighting a match to check it.

Carol thought about Rick's question again—did she feel safe with him?

"Daryl got back from there awhile ago. He's upstairs." Rick told them.

"How did he seem?" Michonne asked.

"Calmer; actually talked to the kids, helped them with the room switching around," Rick said. "Girls will be in Carl's old room, all the boys downstairs with Grayson."

"Does Gray know that?" Carol smiled. She liked the young man who worked with Daryl on the Zone's vehicles.

"I'm told he has been informed." Rick grinned back and they all smiled. They stood for a minute more before Carol's eyes drifted to the stairs.

"I'd better go up." Carol said, handing Judith to Michonne. The little girl briefly fussed until she saw who she was being passed to and then stuck her thumb in her mouth and settled against the swordswoman's chest.

"We're here if you need us." Michonne said, putting her hand on Carol's forearm.

Carol smiled at her gratefully.

"Com'ere." Rick said gently and held out his arms to her. He wrapped her in a comforting hug; it was like having her batteries recharged. She needed to be held; her friends seemed to understand that. Every day Sam greeted her with a big hug, as did Claire and Felicia, Glenn and Maggie, Rosita and Tara whenever they saw her. It wasn't the same as Daryl, but it helped.

* * *

The first thing Carol noticed when he opened the door to their room was that his bed was missing; the expanse of empty floor between the door and the four poster where she slept seemed to stretch out for acres. The second was that Daryl was sitting on the side of the bed, still fully dressed and looking as nervous as hell.

"Kids needed it." Daryl blurted and gestured at the floor, "The mattress."

"Rick told me Riley's moving in." Carol said, nodding, remaining in the doorway.

"I didn't...I didn't do nothin' with her sister." Daryl said, his voice low and fast, his chin dropping. "I didn't..."

"I know that." Carol said evenly. "But you did _hurt_ her."

Daryl's head came up at that and then he nodded, remorseful, looking back down at his hands in his lap.

"I didn't mean to. I just...saw red—you know? She was lying and you were there and she was hurting you...and I wanted her to stop..." he took a deep shaky breath, "I don't want to you to be hurt."

"Do you still love me, Daryl?" Carol asked.

Daryl nodded, too overcome to speak or even look at her.

"Then you won't hurt me." Carol said simply.

"I want to _be_ with you...I want to _want _you...Claire said...she said that we could, I know we should..." Daryl was growing agitated, shifting from one hip to the other as he talked and then he suddenly jumped up and was across the room, stopping right in front of her, breathing hard, but not with passion, with fear.

"Is that why you let them take away your bed?" Carol asked, holding her ground. "You thought you _had _to sleep with me?"

"Ain't fair to you—I treat you like you're some distant relation I got stuck takin' care of—Claire said sister, but most people aren't afraid to let their sister even touch 'em. Afraid of what they'd do that might hurt the child you're carrying if they let go..."

"What are you afraid you'd do?" Carol asked him then. She'd asked him the same question before in one of their joint therapy sessions with Claire and he hadn't been able to respond. He hadn't been ready to share what had happened to him in any detail.

"You said...when we were doing the book...you said you have flashbacks..." Daryl said haltingly. "...to what he did to you?"

"If we're going to talk; can—can we sit?" Carol asked, suddenly feeling light headed.

Daryl was torn between just giving up and fleeing and the need to make her understand. Seeing her sway a little as she took a step forward made him forget himself and he put one hand under her elbow and one at her back to support her. He helped her to the bed and then gingerly sat down beside her. She didn't comment on his carefully impersonal touch, but he could see the tears in her eyes when he dropped his hands back to his lap.

"You told me once. It wasn't enough for him...for Ed...to just use you." Daryl said, "He had to break you down."

"That's what they did to you?' Carol asked quietly. "Broke you down?"

"They tried to take everything from me." Daryl said, his voice turning so cold and dead that it made Carol ache with sadness. He took a deep breath and continued without pause, forcing the account of what they had done to him out like draining an infected wound.

"They didn't just fuck me 'til I bled. They made me _come _while they did it—one of them would jerk me off or blow me while another one was..._in _me... in my ass or in my mouth or both. They made me hate the thought of _feeling_ that way, _wanting _it, getting hard, feeling _anything_ meant they _won. And I couldn't stop them. _When I fought back they hurt me, punched or twisted my dick and balls until they were black and blue; threatened to cut them off; beat me until the tiniest touch was agonizing."

Daryl stopped, staring off at the door, stalled then.

Carol was horrified to hear the whole truth of what he had suffered. To force him to sexual release while enduring such sick sadistic agony? Had they taken away his ability to _ever_ feel desire? She wanted to gather him in her arms and weep with him, but his lifeless voice kept her hands clutched in fists at her side. Even saying she was sorry felt useless. She gulped back her tears, stifling a sob and the sound spurred him to finish.

"When they took me back to the cell, back to Aaron, it didn't feel real because he didn't _hurt _me. He helped me without wanting anything. When I came back here, when Erin took care of me, that wasn't real either... then there was you, the baby... it was like a perfect dream...how could that be real?"

"So you tried to go with the dream." Carol said, wiping at her face, understanding the need to just make everything be 'normal' even when you were dying inside.

Daryl nodded.

"While I was healing, while the baby was getting' settled in there? That became the normal for us. I just put what happened away with what happened when I was a kid. Pulled back. Reset."

"Reset to...before Alexandria _us_." Carol said slowly. "Before we were together."

"I thought it was safer for you." Daryl said, nodding yes, "If we touched and I _wanted_ you, what if it got all mixed up with what they did? What if I have a flashback and lash out at you? Hurt you or the baby because I think you're one of them? Look what I did today—I just went off on her."

"But you're here, now—you gave away your bed—what _changed?_" Carol asked him again.

"That look—that hurt look when you thought I'd been with someone else—that I wasn't in _your_ bed because I didn't _love_ you anymore." Daryl said, his shoulders falling forward as he put his head in his hands and said quietly. _"That killed me."_

"And then I told you to go see Claire..." Carol nodded. "In your sessions alone with her, have you ever told her what you just told me? About...the exact details of what happened to you?"

"No." Daryl said. He hadn't planned to ever tell _anyone,_ but he had to make Carol understand that he wasn't rejecting _her _in favor of someone else. He loved her and didn't want to lose her...and he'd realized that as always she'd understand if he could just get it out and say it.

"Whatever Claire told you to do, Daryl, she didn't have all the information she needed." Carol said. "_We_ didn't."

Daryl raised his head and looked at her, narrowing his eyes assessingly.

"I'm sorry if I made you feel as though the only touch I want from you is _sexual_. There are other kinds of intimacy—we had that even before we became lovers, didn't we?" Carol asked.

Daryl frowned at her, unsure of what she meant.

"Before I came upstairs Rick gave me a hug and as good as it felt I wished it could've been your arms around me that simply, just comforting me, letting me know you cared about me. I miss you. I miss my friend." Carol said and then added carefully. "I want you to stay with me—just like that-just to sleep. And I'll understand if you need to go grab the cushions off of the couch downstairs and make your floor nest back up."

"I...I...I miss...I miss you too..." Daryl said, tentatively reaching out one hand and brushing the back of her small hand with the tips of his fingers. "I want to stay. Here with you." And then he closed his hand over top of hers, bending his fingers around to touch her palm, enclosing it in his.

Carol gave him a peaceful little smile and slowly lay back on the bed, her feet still on the floor, still holding his hand, still fully dressed but for her boots.

Daryl looked down at her, noticing everything about her, the diamond and cable patterns in her thick hand knit sweater, the way it stretched slightly over her baby bulge, the way the silver in her hair was matched by the small silver hoop earrings with blue beads in her ears, and how all the blue she was wearing made her smiling warm eyes spark up at him.

He lay down beside her, remembering another time, when _she'd_ been the one broken by what horrors had happened to her, keeping secrets, running away; lying together in another bed in a shelter for the abused. He'd been so afraid of losing her, afraid he'd wake up and she'd be gone, afraid to even take her hand and tell her so.

They hadn't given up on each other then.

Damned if they would now.

* * *

AN: _Some rough going for our Caryl, but they are working on it together now, they still aren't ashes..._

I keep forgetting to say, Grayson in my head is Kit Harrington, aka Jon Snow from _Game of Thrones._

_Thanks for reading!_


	37. Chapter 37: If You Go Away

_Fluffy...oh so fluffy..._

_Three months later._

* * *

_**If You Go Away**_

_If you go away, as I know you must  
they'll be nothing left, in the world to trust  
Just an empty room full of empty space  
Like the empty look I see on your face  
And I tell you now, as you turn to go  
I'll be dying slowly till your next hello  
If you go away, If you go away, If you go away..._

_But if you stay, I'll make you a night  
like no night has been, or will be again  
I'll sail on your smile, I'll ride on your touch  
I'll talk to your eyes, that I love so much  
Then if you go, I'll understand  
Leave me just enough love to hold in my hand..._

Sung by Dusty Springfield; Songwriter: Jacques Brel, "If You Go Away" lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., CARLIN AMERICA INC.

* * *

"_Huh?"_ Daryl grunted as he felt the insistent—_thump—_against his hand. Still half asleep and disoriented, he spread out the fingers of that same hand, feeling the rock solid swell of Carol's abdomen against it over her pajamas and then—_thump—_it came again.

"He's lively tonight." Carol said sleepily, putting her hand over his.

At six months along the child was moving regularly; sometimes it felt like it was doing somersaults in there or using her organs as punching bags. She was only comfortable sleeping on her side now and Daryl liked to spoon in behind her, holding her protectively, his front to her back.

He'd stayed in her bed, to sleep, every night since he'd returned to it three months ago. At first he'd sometimes awoken with nightmares, allowing her to soothe him back to sleep or sit up and read to him if he was truly unable to find any rest. Carol's duties had been lessened as the pregnancy progressed so those nights when she needed to stay up with him, she was able to sleep in the morning or take an afternoon nap.

Daryl was constantly on her to eat more, as per Dr. Yang's orders, but she was still underweight. The need for naps and the reduced schedule frustrated her to no end. The baby was sapping her strength and there was nothing she could do about it. She didn't remember being this tired constantly with Sophia, but she'd been two decades younger at the time.

The renewed comfort Daryl had around her now was the saving grace of the situation. Spending so much time with her, caring for her, pampering her, had brought out that softer side of Daryl she'd seen him capable of before. During his search for Sophia was when she'd first felt it, his voice gentler, his constant gaze on her, the gift of the Cherokee Rose, holding her at the barn and sitting with her afterwards had all been something new for them both.

It was also tempered with flashes of anger: the stables when she'd stopped him trying to ready a horse to resume his search after being both stabbed and shot, the tirade when she'd sought him out at his new campsite the night after the walker that had been her daughter was put down, showed his defenses were capable of slamming back up just as quickly.

They had continued their regular sessions with Claire, who was a busy woman these days. She worked with many of the new arrivals to help them acclimate to living in a community again if they had been "out there" on the road any length of time. Others, especially those who had been captives like Brianna, Riley, Daryl and Aaron were also her patients.

Brianna's erratic behavior and denial of reality continued and had been a challenge to find something to keep her occupied and away from both Carol and Daryl. Before the Turn she had been a hair stylist, so she had initially been put to work giving haircuts to anyone who requested one, but she had used the opportunity at one on one interaction to continue her gossipy rants about how Carol and her baby had destroyed Daryl's chance at happiness.

The solution to this had been when Riley volunteered to be shampoo girl, accompanying her sister where ever she went. It was a huge step for the younger girl to go out amongst people she didn't know, but she had been slowly making progress with Claire's counsel and her new friendships.

She was also fiercely protective of Carol, who had taken Riley under her wing at the house, teaching her cooking and child care skills so she could help with the baby when the time came.

Daryl had been leery of this last until Carol quietly explained that the household already had one infant and if for whatever reason she wasn't there to raise their child she wanted him to have well prepared help.

Carol saw his deep worry about her and the child, though he hid it behind gruffness whenever she caught him at it. They discussed it with Claire and had fought over the question at the root of their last session. Erin wanted them to decide, before she went into labor, if there was a problem and therefore a choice, who was she supposed to save, Carol or the baby?

For Carol the children always came first. She didn't want to go on if it meant the death of another child.

For Daryl there was no choice. She was his life.

They had a one month deadline within which to decide.

In the middle of the night Daryl nuzzled in to her nape, kissing her there. He had just started doing that. The bigger she got, the more his touches had started to slowly and subtly change. He seemed to like having his arms around her, holding her at night like a human comforter, feeling the baby's movements. The kisses had been slower to return.

She knew he still worried about having flashbacks that could turn violent and was afraid that kissing might trigger them. Carol mourned their loss almost more than she missed the feel of him inside her. The love he'd shown her had started with his kiss that night at Aaron and Eric's; she missed his kisses. Kisses meant he saw her as more than the best friend who was also carrying his child.

"I don't have to go." Daryl said, resting his chin on her shoulder after the baby's restlessness had woken him. He had worked both arms around her, holding her just under her breasts and over her belly.

"You're going stir crazy, I can feel it." Carol told him. "It's a short run. You both need to go back out there—prove to yourselves that you can."

He and Aaron hadn't been back outside the walls since they'd returned from the Wolves. Recruitment hadn't been needed in recent months and Glenn had all the bases covered on supply runs. His teams needed a break though and Daryl was one of the best outside the wall people they had. Physically he felt he was back close to 100% and had told Claire he could handle it.

One of the women who had come in from Bethesda, Jessica, had worked as a clerk at the big Naval hospital there and said it was a goldmine for medical supplies. They'd been planning the run—one day up and one day back—for several months and now that the weather was good and the roads passable, it was time.

The crew would include Aaron, Daryl, Michonne, Morgan and the clerk, and they would take a four-wheel drive king cab pick-up that one of the recent arrivals had come in with and Daryl's bike so he could scout ahead.

"I want you to stay with Eric when I go." Daryl said, "I know he'll take care of you right." Rick was too busy to give her the one on one care she needed if she stayed here. She and Sam were set to bunk with Eric overnight while he was gone.

"And you won't get jealous if I need him to cuddle me at night?" Carol teased, but she wasn't really sure if she'd be able to sleep without him here holding her.

"_Stop."_ Daryl gently scolded, kissing her nape and she shivered.

Carol shifted more onto her back so she could look up at him. As he stared back at her, his eyes flicked down to her lips and then back up to her eyes before slowly leaning forward to brush her mouth with his. Carol closed her eyes, afraid to expect more, but then his lips touched hers again, more firmly this time and she started kissing him back. She lifted her hands to lightly tangle her fingers in his hair, but when she opened her mouth and licked at his lower lip he abruptly pulled back, panting and trembling.

"I'm sorry," Daryl said after a minute or two, unsure if he was apologizing for the kisses or for pulling away.

"That was nice." Carol whispered, lying completely still while Daryl struggled to stay, his eyes tightly shut, chewing on the inside of his lips. She began carefully running her fingers through his hair, brushing it back behind his ears, just enjoying the freedom to touch him, combing its shaggy length between her fingers over and over, her intent to relax him so he could go back to sleep. She was very surprised when it had the opposite reaction.

Daryl had been lying half against her during the kissing, his front tight to her side, so when she felt the hardness press into her hip she froze, her hand fisting closed in his hair. In all the nights since he'd returned from the Wolves that hadn't happened. They had been physically close, their connection warm and comfortable, but not sexual in any real way.

Unsure of what to do, she watched his face. A blush crept up his neck and he made a little sound, half sigh, half whimper, biting his lower lip. He pushed his head into her hand, silently asking her to resume playing with his hair and so she did, tugging a little more firmly at it, and he made that sound again.

Daryl dropped his head to the space between her neck and shoulder. Carol felt his breath hot on the bare skin there, and then his lips were there, kissing her tenderly just above her collar bone before his mouth began gently sucking down.

Next his hand found hers; drawing it down from his hair to his chest so she could feel the rapid erratic beat of his heart through his ribbed tank. She made no attempt to caress, just let him guide her hand where he wanted it.

His breathing was faster as he continued lowering her hand, brushing against his abs and then lifting it to cup his erection through his flannel sleep pants. His hand stayed over top of hers, holding it steady and still.

Carol felt his pulse, strong and rapid in the thickness she held and wrapped her fingers more firmly around the shaft covered in the soft cloth.

Daryl moaned against her neck and his hand closed more tightly over hers, holding it still. Then ever so slowly, he began a slight rock of his hips, pumping himself into her grip still encased by his big hand. He kissed and licked at her neck, his hips jerking up into her hand faster and faster until he suddenly shuddered and bit down, muffling his cry against her neck; her hand feeling the rhythmic surge of power as his cock pulsed wet heat.

When she gently tried to release her grip on him, he kept his hand tightly around hers, holding it in place and breathing hard against her neck.

"_You...?"_ Daryl asked softly, sounding guilty.

"_I'm fine_." Carol assured him, thinking she'd have a hell of a hicky and some very private laundry to do for him in the morning...But she was happy he'd been able to find release and that she could help him, that he'd _wanted_ her to help him.

Daryl lifted his head so he could see her face, testing the truth of what she said. When he saw only calm contentment he sighed in relief and kissed her, sweetly and lingeringly before resting his head on her shoulder.

"Next time _you_." Daryl said in sleepy promise, making her chuckle.

They fell back asleep like that, her hand still holding him; the evidence of his orgasm, the first he'd had since he'd returned, soaking the front of his flannels and up onto his belly.

* * *

"So it was over the clothes action." Erin asked, swiping the electronic thermometer over Carol's forehead and checking the reading.

"_Erin."_ Carol frowned. "I came in for a check-up not the third degree."

"You asked me how late into pregnancy it was all right to have sexual contact; I was just trying to assess the situation." Erin replied mildly. "After Daryl's injuries I wasn't sure if an erection and completion was physically possible for him, so I asked what prompted your question."

"You said—Claire said before—that there was nothing wrong with him, that he was fully recovered." Carol said in confusion, sure that's what she had been told.

"He had full urinary and bowel control back, that often means sexual function is fine as well, but I couldn't be 100% sure. Sometimes these things are more psychological than physical or a combination of the two." Erin shrugged. "It just takes time to see what pans out."

Carol stared at her, shaking her head.

"After what they did to him..." Erin said gently, putting her hand on Carol's forearm, "...it's a testament to how much he loves you, Carol that he even wants to try." she smiled at the other woman and squeezed her arm, released it and got out the blood pressure cuff.

After the pressure and pulse readings, Erin used her stethoscope, reaching under Carol's sweater to check her heart and lungs and then had her lie down so she could listen for the fetal heart beat.

"We wear clothes to bed...the house is chilly...and he's more comfortable that way, better about being close if it's not skin to skin." Carol explained, taking up the earlier part of the conversation.

"Riley said they stripped them, nothing to cover up or hide behind. Totally vulnerable to their captor's gaze and touches...beatings...totally at their mercy, or lack of it..." Erin said, grimacing and nodding her head, pausing to look down at Carol before continuing.

"I let him be in control." Carol said. It had felt like the right thing to do, to give him back what he hadn't had. Daryl had wanted her touch, her hand on him, but he had needed to be the one in charge of everything that happened between them.

"Sounds like that worked out okay." Erin said with a small smile. "And if things progress any further I understand you want to know what to expect."

"My husband never touched me—when I was pregnant with my daughter." Carol told her. "But I still had..._urges..._so I took care of them myself."

"That's a good place to start, if and when he's ready to reciprocate, toys might make it easier for him." Erin nodded. "That reminds me; make sure we have all sizes of batteries high on the list for the run tomorrow."

"Erin!" Carol laughed, but blushed. During her pregnancy was when she had sent away for her first vibrator, having it delivered to a PO Box and hiding it under a floorboard in the guest room, knowing if Ed ever found it she'd pay dearly, but it had been worth it, a secret rebellion that made every time she used it twice as satisfying.

"Lie still and stop giggling." Erin ordered with a smile and then they heard the door open.

"Thought you weren't startin' till ten." Daryl said, looking cross, his mouth turned down. He'd been working on tuning up the truck and bike before the run, but must've gone home to clean up a bit before coming to the Clinic. There were some grease stains on his pants, but his bare arms and hands were clean and his hair was damp around his face, the long sides pushed back behind his ears.

"I started when she got here." Erin shrugged.

"I woke up at nine and took a shower—I only got here ten minutes ago." Carol told him placatingly. She had come early on purpose, wanting to talk to Erin before Daryl arrived.

"Just about to listen in on what Junior is up to—you didn't miss your turn." Erin said, motioning him forward as she lifted Carol's turtleneck sweater to expose her belly and then inserted the stethoscope ear pieces into her ears and held the other end to Carol's bare abdomen.

That made Daryl breathe easier and give one of his half smiles. That was his favorite part of these check-ups, hearing that fast pitter-pat in concert with Carol's own steady heartbeat.

"Oop!" Erin exclaimed and Daryl looked at her in alarm. She gently took his hand and before he could protest placed it over where she had just had the stethoscope—skin on skin—and he felt the sharp kick against his palm.

"_Hey!"_ Daryl exclaimed and gave a little laugh, putting both hands on her to try and catch another movement. "Thought he only did that at night!"

"He does it all day long." Carol grumbled, "Uses my insides like a trampoline."

"So we're calling it he?" Erin asked, taking off the stethoscope and handing it to Daryl who reluctantly lifted his hands away so he could use both to put the device on.

"This month. Next month it's a she. Trying it out to see how it sounds." Carol told her.

Erin helped Daryl place the stethoscope so he could hear the heartbeat and then put the earpieces on Carol so she could do the same.

"He's a little small still, but his heart rate and position are good. I'll be happier to get a closer look if they bring me back a working sonogram machine from Bethesda. You need more vitamins yet?" Erin asked Carol.

"Have enough through the end of the month—they're on the list too." Daryl replied."Anything else we need to be on the lookout for special?"

"Any OB/GYN kits, general surgical kits, intubation kit, anesthesia—all the stuff on the list is important, Daryl." Erin said. If Carol did have trouble delivering any or all of that could be the difference between Lori's outcome and Felicia's.

Daryl nodded, looking both troubled and determined.

"How's the leg?" Erin asked him, referencing the first injury she'd ever seen him for, the day she arrived.

"Still makes it all the way to the ground every morning." Daryl shrugged. It was just one of many aches and pains he'd learned to live with.

Carol reached out, asking for help sitting up and he quickly moved closer, taking her hand and putting his other arm around her back. She made a frustrated noise, trying to pull her sweater back down one handed and he helped her with that too, making a little scolding grunt until she let him do it and then put her hand over his in thanks.

Watching them, Erin smiled. They completed each other so effortlessly she doubted they even realized it.

"I need to check everyone out who's going on the run tomorrow—everything else in working order?" Erin asked, motioning for him to hop up on the examining table beside Carol, who gave the doctor a warning glance, pursing her lips at the other woman.

"Seems to be." Daryl said, deadpan, but licking his lips as if they'd suddenly gone dry.

"Sleeping better?" the doctor asked, motioning for him to hold back his hair so she could take his temperature with a swipe to his forehead.

Daryl glanced over at Carol who had a benign look of innocence on her face.

"Then I was?" Daryl asked, and then answered his own question, "Yeah."

"Good." Erin nodded and wrapped the blood pressure cuff on his bicep, asking no more questions as she checked his pulse, heart and lungs; even got out her little rubber hammer and did reflex tests.

"Anything else?" Daryl asked.

"Nope—you're both good to go." Erin said.

Daryl jumped down off the table and turned back to help Carol down.

"See you at the meeting later?" Erin asked. There was a Council meeting later today to finalize the plans for the run and contingencies.

"I hope I don't fall asleep in the middle of it again," Carol said with a chagrined look. She'd never live that one down.

It had happened two weeks ago. To their credit at the time everyone just kept talking, albeit in softer voices, and let her go on sleeping while they finished the business of the day. Maggie woke her up afterwards, handing her a dishtowel to wipe the drool off her chin and the table.

"Take a nap after lunch—Daryl will come for you, won't you, Daryl?" Erin said helpfully.

"Huh?" Daryl asked, his chin drawing back and eyebrows going up, unsure if he'd heard her right.

"You'll wake me up and get me to the meeting on time." Carol said, side-eyeing Erin and taking Daryl's hand to get him away from Yang and her double-entendres.

"Sure—yeah—I will." Daryl said, nodding his head at both women.

"Oh—all nine months, Carol." Erin called after them, "In answer to your earlier question."

"What does she mea-?" Daryl started to ask, but Carol pulled him through the door.

* * *

_Everyone knows you wear a turtleneck to hide a hicky, right?_

_Thanks for reading!_


	38. Chapter 38: Damaged People

_Carol faces down a looming threat that could change her and Daryl's lives forever._

* * *

_**Damaged People**_

"_Damaged people are dangerous; they know they can survive."_ –Josephine Hart

* * *

"Can I help you, Brianna?" Carol asked, glad of the weight of her trench knife secure on her hip.

The girl had come into the Pantry looking confused and disheveled, as if she'd slept in her clothes, blouse wrinkled and untucked under an overlarge man's coat, which was unusual. Since she'd come to the ASZ the former Wolves' captive had searched out and worn the most fashionable clothes she could find, figure flattering, just bordering on inappropriately so. She had a body that a Victoria's Secret model would have envied back before the Turn and seemed to enjoy flaunting it. Perfectly styled hair and subtle make-up finished off the look, and in a world where most women barely had time to shower and run a comb through their low maintenance looks, it made her a stand out, the first woman most of the new men noticed, and not in a good way.

"Carol." Brianna said, focusing on her, her eyes over bright and red.

"Is everything okay? You don't look well." Carol inquired carefully. They were alone here at the end of the work day; Olivia had a date with Eugene tonight so she'd sent the happy nervous woman home early to get ready for it.

"_Is everything okay?"_ the younger woman repeated mockingly, closing the door behind her. "No Carol, it's _not._" she took her hands out of the pockets of her coat and held out them out, covered in blood. The déjà vu was sickening, making Carol's stomach drop at the remembrance of two other blonde sisters.

"Brianna, where's Riley?" Carol asked, her heart in her throat. Her sister was supposed to stay with her while she was at work, which she should be at this time of day. Carol had just been about to lock up the Pantry to go meet Daryl, Eric and Aaron for dinner.

"Doesn't matter." Brianna said, coming closer to Carol, "He had weed—good shit—and I met him there. He had wine, we drank it..."

"We? Was Riley there?" Carol asked, now able to smell the sweet smoky scent of pot on her clothes and skin, the wine on her breath...

"No. Not there. She's just a kid. He only wanted me, said quid pro quo, just me..."

"Quid pro quo? What did he want from you, Brianna?"

"He wanted to fuck me, Carol, _everyone_ wants to fuck me." Brianna snorted, some of her arrogant demeanor returning, her chin coming up in a defiant sneer, "Except Daryl...because of you."

Carol stared at her, the contrast between her appearance and her attitude jarring.

"He was supposed to take care of my problem if I took care of his—criss-cross—so we got high, I fucked him and he was supposed to come here and kill you for me." Brianna said coolly. Then she reached around her back and pulled something out of the waistband of her skinny jeans: a pointed pair of barber shears, the blades and grip also covered in dried blood.

"Stay back." Carol swiftly unsheathed her knife and held it up in a defensive posture, her mind going a mile a minute, calculating all of her options.

"But he was _weak_. Said he couldn't hurt a _pregnant_ woman, that I was _sick_ for wanting him to." Brianna rolled her eyes and shook her head like a spoiled child denied a treat. "But he didn't understand. You're _not_. Daryl would never give you a baby. You're lying. That's not his, it's not human." She pointed at Carol's belly with the scissors, "It's a dead thing. You have a _walker_ inside you and when it comes out it's gonna _kill_ him. I have to save him."

"Where's _Riley_, Brianna?" Carol asked, trying to snap her back into reality, "Where's your _little sister_?"

"She's just sleeping." Brianna said indignantly, "He gave me a pill for her. I put it in her water. I protect her. I don't hurt her."

Carol didn't relax, but she felt somewhat relieved that the younger girl probably hadn't been harmed. She glanced quickly at the clock on the wall, trying to gauge how late she would have to be before Daryl would come looking for her.

In a fight she could most likely kill the unhinged young woman. She knew that. She was the more experienced fighter, trained by the best. But the idea of one more death on her conscience, one more damaged girl she couldn't save made her hesitate to act.

"I need to go check on Riley, Brianna. You don't know what was in the pill he gave you—was he a doctor? Did he tell you what it was? He could have killed her; we need to see if she's all right." Carol said, trying to drag the girl's attention back to her sister.

Brianna frowned, wincing, stopping her forward momentum as if she'd been slapped.

"A doctor? I don't... he just had them hidden in his car, all his pills and weed and booze. Took me there. She's sleeping there."

"At the motor pool? Carol asked.

"In the back seat of his car." Brianna said, nodding almost robotically as she tried to remember the details. "She's safe there sleeping it off."

"Does he work there? Is that where he took you?"

"Work there? No—he just got here—he's a grunt, working on the Wall, crammed in a house with ten other people. I cut his hair day before yesterday and he liked what he saw." The girl preened, tossing her tangled hair back, the W etched on her forehead visible when her long bangs fell to the side.

"Donnie?" Carol asked. She'd heard Abe grouse about him at the Council meeting—always complaining and missing shifts. The drug use would explain the attitude and lack of work ethic. Shades of Merle.

"Is that his name? I didn't care. Just another prick that wanted to stick it in me. At least he got me high first; said he'd do whatever I wanted if I let him stick it in me. But then he wouldn't so I did it to him instead—right in the gut—I showed him what he was _supposed _to do." Brianna's voice was cold and she stared at Carol's belly under the empire waisted floral blouse that she wore.

"_You didn't put him down?"_ Carol asked sharply. She'd left a dead man to turn? _"Where is he?"_

Brianna's head snapped up.

"If he turned he could hurt people, he could hurt _Riley._ He could hurt _Daryl._" Carol continued in a forceful but calm tone. "We need to go, Brianna. We need to take care of him."

Brianna looked at the knife in Carol's hand; the look on her face calculating.

"You kill people." Brianna said slowly. "Not just walkers. You kill _people_."

"When I have to." Carol agreed, hoping the girl would take it as a warning.

"Does _it _make you?" Brianna said, transfixed on Carol's abdomen again, raising the scissors into a striking pose. "That thing inside you?"

"My baby—_Daryl's_ baby—is an innocent. If you try to hurt me and our baby, I'll stop you." Carol said.

"I'm younger, stronger." Brianna argued, scathing now. "You're slow, old, used up, weighed down."

"And if you succeed?" Carol said evenly, used to being underestimated. "_Daryl_ will kill you."

"Daryl loves me." Brianna said, thrusting out her chin. "When you're gone we'll be together."

"Not if you were the last woman on earth." Carol returned with a sad sigh.

Brianna suddenly launched herself forward with a scream, her scissors aimed at Carol's midsection. Carol spun to the side quickly, in an evasive move, sweeping her leg out to trip the other woman, but she overbalanced, unused to the extra weight, and fell, both their legs tangling together, hitting the ground hard, Brianna on top of her.

Carol grabbed Brianna's wrist, keeping the scissors away from her and kicked out, trying to push the other woman off of her, trying not to just use her knife, refusing to kill if she didn't have to.

Brianna struggled, pushing the scissors down with all her strength towards Carol's throat while using her other hand to grab the older woman's hair cruelly, forcing her head back.

"Please, Brianna! Stop! Don't do this!" Carol cried, her other hand tightening on the brass knuckle handle of her knife, starting to raise it.

"You're dead, bitch!" Brianna said, breathing heavily, a look of triumphant glee twisting her pretty face into something grotesque.

And then she just stopped.

Brianna blinked twice, her mouth coming open and going slack, a warm trickle of blood drooling down on to Carol's face before she collapsed.

Then the blonde was shoved off of Carol roughly and she saw the bolt protruding from the girl's back. Daryl quickly slung his bow behind him and bent to Carol, his strong arms lifting her up, cradling her against his chest, and wiping the blood off her face with his free hand.

"_You're okay—I gotcha—it's okay."_ Daryl said in a voice that tried to be reassuring, but shook from the horror of what he'd walked in on. He saw her unbloodied knife still in her right hand; her fingers gripping the brass knuckle handle it so hard they were white.

"Is she dead?" Carol asked, gulping and wheezing, trying to catch her breath, the adrenaline still making her heart beat a frantic tattoo against her ribs.

"She's stopped." Daryl said with finality. "I'm a' get you to Erin."

"There's a walker—" Carol said hoarsely.

"Won't let her turn; I'll send someone back in." Daryl assured her, kicking the door closed behind them.

"No—she killed someone—new man—Donnie. Don't know where." Carol said, pushing against his chest. "Check the motor pool—drugged Riley n'lef..._left_ her there."

"_We got problems here!"_ Daryl yelled loudly, moving swiftly down off the porch and out into the street.

Carol closed her eyes, letting the peace of being safe in his arms wash over her, losing the fight with herself, drifting into unconsciousness.

* * *

When she woke up, she was in one of the Infirmary beds, Riley sitting in the chair beside it, Sam on the bed next to her. Carol could hear voices arguing in the other room.

"Daryl, she's fine, the baby's fine." Yang said in a low conciliatory voice.

"She had her knife—she could a' taken her out—point is she _didn't_!" Daryl was talking in hushed but angry tones.

"You understand that, don't you?" Claire calmly said to Daryl.

"I brought you some flowers, Miss Carol." Sam said from beside her.

Carol's head turned to the small table beside her. Some early spring jonquils, sun yellow, were crowded into a beaker.

"_Look at the flowers, Lizzie."_

_The sound of her pistol discharging and a small body crumpling to the ground._

"_Everything works out the way it's supposed to."_

_The soft crunch of another little girl's temple as her knife punched through it._

_Pushing the sweat soaked dark hair off of the nape of a woman bleeding from her eyes, ears and nose; the razor sharp knife in and out in two seconds, severing her spinal cord and sliding up into her brain. Repeating it in the next bed, the man already comatose. The smell of burning flesh making her hold her bandana tightly to her face..._

"_Do what you have to do." offering up her life for the ones she'd taken._

"_I forgive you." the ghost of a kind man granting absolution..._

"Carol?" Riley said more loudly, standing and coming closer to the bed. "Can you forgive me?"

"What?" Carol said, blinking and shaking her head.

"For what my sister did..._tried_ to do...can you forgive me?" Riley asked again, her voice sad.

"It's not your fault." Carol said, struggling to sit up.

Sam reached out both hands to help her and Riley put two pillows behind her.

"I was supposed to watch her, keep her away from you and the baby." Riley said, miserable.

"She was sick." Carol said. "None of us realized how sick she was."

"I should have seen it." Riley insisted. "She was my sister, I _should've_."

"Don't _do_ that to yourself." Carol said too sharply, her voice rising, making Riley step back in confusion.

That drew Daryl, Claire and Yang from the other room.

Riley looked at Daryl's face, not sure if she saw worry or anger in his scowl and shrank back against the wall when he passed by her to go to Carol.

"Riley." Claire said gently, holding out her hand, "Do you still want to help Rosita?"

"Yes ma'am." the girl said softly, sliding back along the wall towards the door they had just come through.

"Then go on." Claire told her.

"Riley—I'm _sorry._" Carol said, expressing condolences and also in apology.

Riley took one last look at Carol, nodded and then backed through the door to leave the room.

"She's going to take care of her sister isn't she?" Sam asked soberly. "So we can bury her."

"Yes." Claire said, "It's what we do for the ones we love."

"Why did Brianna try to hurt Miss Carol and her baby?" Sam asked.

"She was...sick, Sam." Claire said, "Damaged by what happened to her...the men who hurt her."

"But they hurt Riley and Mr. Daryl too n' they didn't do bad things." Sam said, indignant.

"Some people aren't as strong as others, Sam." Claire explained, "Their minds can't bounce back from the hurts and help them. They want to blame someone else for what happened to them or they can't face reality."

"Mr. Daryl is _strong_." Sam nodded vehemently, looking over at Daryl who was now sitting on the side of Carol's bed staring down at her. When he lifted his hand to take Carol's it was shaking.

Yang and Claire exchanged a look.

"Let's give them some privacy to visit with Claire now, okay?" Erin asked Sam.

The boy looked over at Carol again and then ran over to her bed, scooting to the opposite side of where Daryl was and leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek and then scrambled away, back to Erin and the two of them left the room.

"She was tryin' to kill you...and our kid!" Daryl said tersely, as soon as Sam was gone. "What the hell were you thinkin'?"

Carol didn't respond, she just stared at him.

"You had this! Why didn't you take her _out_?" Daryl slammed her knife down on the bedside table, knocking the beaker off level and it tipped over, flowers and water tumbling to the floor in a gush, the glass beaker rolling dangerously close to the edge before stopping, held there by the heavy weight of the knife's handle.

"_Daryl."_ Claire said warningly.

"_She wasn't some second chance at savin' Lizzie."_ Daryl said, taking Carol's shoulders in his hands.

Carol's lips start to quiver as Daryl ran his hands down her arms and took her hands in his.

"Yeah, she was messed up too, I know that, but she went after you—you _gotta_ have some sense of self preservation." Daryl's low gravelly voice sounded afraid, almost desperate. He took her hands and placed them on her belly, laying his over top of them. "Lost too much already...I can't lose you too..."

"Carol, I get what you were thinking—" Claire began.

"I was trying to stop her." Carol interrupted, her voice quiet but adamant, "I _was_." she looked at Daryl.

"You were?" Daryl said, looking deeply into her eyes.

"I was. I had my knife up..." Carol nodded at him. "But I fell." Tears of frustration filled her eyes, "I didn't want to, but I would, to protect you, to protect our family. I _know_ how to survive."

"I know, shit, I _know_...that's all you've ever done." Daryl said, pulling her forward into a tight embrace, whispering, _"I'm sorry."_

He'd been terrified when he'd opened the door to the pantry and saw the scene unfolding in front of him. It was every nightmare he'd had when he thought of leaving her here alone to go out on the run coming true. What if this had happened tomorrow or the day after when he was gone? He could've come home to...what? Another person he loved that he couldn't save? The death of a child he'd never known? No more chances to make things right.

"Takin' her home." Daryl said in a tone that brooked no argument, releasing Carol so he could stand and pull back the blanket and sheet over her, frowning when he realized they had put her in a hospital gown.

"Should check first with Erin." Claire told him.

"Said I'm takin' her home." Daryl growled. "Where'd you put her clothes?"

"Carol?" Claire asked, hoping she would talk some sense into him. She was okay, but bruised up and needed to be monitored for any changes in her or the child's condition.

"He'll take good care of me, Claire." Carol said. "I'd like to sleep in my own bed. I need some normal after today. Especially with him leaving on the run tomorrow."

"_Pffft!" _Daryl made a loud noise of disagreement, rummaging around in the cabinets on the wall until he found the one that held Carol's clothing.

"What does that mean?" Carol asked him, turning to look at him as he stalked back to the bed with a pile of clothes.

"You coulda _died_. I ain't goin' nowhere." Daryl announced, "I'm on you like glue, woman. Now put your pants on."

* * *

AN: _Brianna's delusions finally took their toll, aided by the illicit drugs given to her by another man exploiting her instability. He also paid the price for his duplicity. Carol didn't want to kill the mentally ill young woman, but she was left with no choice, about to do it when Daryl found them and did it instead, sparing her that._

_Thanks for reading!_


	39. Chapter 39: While I Was Away

Daryl gives Rick unwelcome news and things go seriously south...

Warning: Character death paralleling the TWD Comic.

* * *

_**While I Was Away **_

_While I was away a part of me remained  
and it never had a say in the judgment that you made.  
I hope I will learn, but if not too bad;  
focus on myself for the time I have.  
I hope we'll outgrow our dispute one day.  
All my words are spent, nothing left to say._

_We have failed, my brethren.  
Can we be condoned?  
Tell me all is lost and I will leave you alone.  
-_The Kyteman Orchestra

* * *

"I need you with us on this, Daryl!" Rick said adamantly. "You made a commitment to go on this run."

Their argument was starting to draw attention, which is not what Daryl had intended. After Carol was safely home and in bed he'd gone looking for Rick and found him on the street, returning from gathering supplies for tomorrow's run, about half way between Aaron and Eric's house and their own.

"That was before that crazy girl tried to kill Carol and my kid—I ain't leavin' her here alone now." Daryl said defensively. If Rick thought some mission was more important than his family he had another thing coming.

"You think I want to go out there and leave Carl and Judith?" Rick asked in a low forceful voice, "I go out when I'm needed because I know they're _not_ alone. There are people in here that will protect them—people who would _die_ to keep them safe. You're saying you don't trust the rest of us to do that for you?"

"Just like you didn't trust Carol alone with _your_ kids?" Daryl shot back, "Ain't that why you told her she couldn't come back to the Prison? Why you kicked her out without waitin' on the rest of us?"

Rick looked stunned—he'd thought this was a dead issue—that they'd all gotten past it in the months since, with everything else that had happened. He couldn't believe that Daryl would bring it up now and use it to defend his insubordination...

"That's over and done, Daryl." Rick said tightly.

"Is it? Seems to me like it's always there in the back of your mind" Daryl said, gesturing to his head for emphasis,"Some rapin' murdering assholes bite it and she's the first person you go after." Daryl shot back.

"Back it the prison she told me she'd do anything to keep us safe...and she did. _You know what she did_." Rick said, "I was doing what I had to do to protect the group."

"And I'm doin' what I have to; protecting what's mine." Daryl said, turning on his heel and starting to leave.

"Don't walk away from me." Rick growled out harshly, lunging forward and grabbing at Daryl's arm to stop him.

"Get off me!" Daryl twisted away from him until they were facing each other again. The look of dark anger on his face would've made most people back off, but Rick persisted.

"If people break their word this place starts falling apart!" Rick argued, getting in his face.

"She almost _died!_" Daryl yelled. "If I hadn't been there today she could have—if somethin' happened to her while I was away—I ain't losin' her! _Not again_!" and then he shoved Rick back hard, with both hands against his chest.

Rick stumbled back but came up fast, barreling into Daryl and the two men grappled until Maggie and Glenn came running up, pushing their way through the crowd that had gathered.

"Daryl—Rick—you need to stop this." Glenn said, grabbing Daryl's arm, grasping his bicep firmly with both hands and hauling him back. Maggie jumped in front of Rick to keep him from going after Daryl again.

"Rick—enough!" Maggie said firmly.

"He's backing out on the run! He can't do that!" Rick said, his steely eyes furious.

"Rick, he almost lost Carol and the baby today—you can understand how that makes him feel." Maggie reasoned.

"We've all lost people—you can't just _quit_—"Rick replied, shaking his head.

"You mean like _you_ did when you lost Lori?" Daryl snarked, "We picked up your slack then, brother," he gestured at Maggie, "or doesn't your memory go back that far?"

"It's what we do." Michonne said, appearing behind them and also moving to stand between Rick and Daryl. "That's what you said."

Rick stared at her, knowing she was right, remembering Daryl using those very words to acknowledge the thanks he'd tried to give him for saving Judith.

"We can't go on the run a man short." Rick said, still seeing red, but realizing his higher moral authority was crumbling.

"I'll go." Glenn said quickly.

"_No_—you've gone on more than your share of runs." Rick said.

Glenn had been doing them from the beginning, from the first time in the quarry when Rick had enlisted him to go on the rescue mission back to Atlanta for Merle.

"You don't gotta do that, man." Daryl said to Glenn, torn now, knowing Rick was right about one thing; his friend had done too many of the dangerous trips outside the walls.

"No—it's all good—you need to stay here with Carol." Glenn said, giving Daryl a crooked smile, "What's one more run?"

* * *

"_You need to wake up."_ Daryl whispered, brushing back a few errant strands of her silvered hair and placing a kiss on Carol's forehead as he leaned over her.

She was sleeping on her side, the most comfortable position, and he let his gaze wander over the rounded curves of her body, still somewhat awed even at six months to realize that she was carrying their child. A wave of protectiveness and love washed over him, warring with the guilt he'd felt at letting Glenn take his place on the run.

He watched her cheek curve into a smile, but her eyes stayed closed. Daryl's mouth moved to her temple for another light kiss.

"_Brought you some soup."_ he whispered and kissed the corner of her mouth.

Carol turned her head and reached her hands out from under the covers to hold his chin in place above her, kissing him softly full on the lips; a kiss lush and full of need. She felt his hesitation at the unspoken request and started to pull back, but then his weight joined her on the bed, his body curving around hers.

Impatiently, he tugged at the blankets between them, pulling them over top of them both and snuggling in, holding her close and continuing to kiss her.

She'd scared him today. It was supposed to be safer, in here, inside the walls, but when had that ever really been true? Lori had died inside what they'd thought were safe walls, Andrea too. Beth had been surrounded by her family, already rescued, two feet away from him. His momma had been asleep in her bed... No matter how tightly he held on he couldn't keep them safe_... Stay safe..._

He loved Carol. The vulnerability that he had tried to avoid showing his whole life, the hard shell he'd created around him with his off putting glower and rough ways, it all just fell away with her. He could be who he really was with her.

After the prison, when he thought he'd lost everything, Beth had ripped that shell from him at the Still house with her ignorance of the horrors he'd faced at his father's hand. Daryl had felt exposed, lost, and needy—willing to do whatever it took to see the world as she did, with childlike innocence, something that had been stolen from him at a young age.

Rick had seen that need in him as well—to belong, to be called brother—and played on it to keep him close, his strong right hand. Aaron had understood better than Rick why Daryl was the way he was, their bond different but almost as strong after the ordeal they'd faced while held by the Wolves.

What had kept him alive during that captivity had not been the hard shell. They had smashed and pried that open by force and brutality, exposing every part of him, trying their best to destroy not just his body but his mind and his soul.

The essence of him, the little boy crying alone in the dark, was the man who loved the only person who could comfort him, who made him feel whole. It was the very thing that he'd always though made him vulnerable that had kept him alive, his love for the woman he held in his arms and hers in return.

Daryl was still fucked up about sex. He knew that. He couldn't just shove it all back in a box inside his head and ignore it again like he'd done most of his life. The night before, when she'd let him lead, let him have what he needed from her with no regard for her own release, helping him find his, that selflessness she showed him made him ache to make her happy...maybe... maybe if it was all about _her_... maybe that wouldn't trigger those memories.

He loved her body, all its sleek softness, the press of her belly against him when she held him in the night or the gentle curve of her ass pressed against him as he spooned her from behind. It was different, feminine, and delicate, nothing like the cruel grasping fisted force hard ones of the Wolves. He knew she would never hurt him; he didn't need to flinch from her any more.

Daryl continued to kiss her, knowing how much she liked it, running his hands up and down her back. He lifted her sleep shirt, her skin at the small of her back under the faded flannel warm and silky against his fingers. She startled a little, breaking the kiss, but he kept up the caressing touch, just above the elastic of her panties.

"_Daryl?"_ she breathed.

"_Shhh..."_ he soothed, rubbing his nose against her cheek_. "Let me?"_

"Whatever you need, you know that." she said softly.

"_Need to touch you."_ he said, _"That okay?"_

Carol sighed, murmuring her assent.

Daryl kissed her again then, more ardently as his hands skimmed up to her sides, lifting the shirt higher. They traded long slow deep kisses, tongues slipping along each others, exploring with more passion than he'd shown her in what felt like forever.

Carol moaned and then ripped her mouth from his, breathing heavily.

"Can I touch you too?" she asked, looking up at him with wide eyes, pupils dark and large, and her voice shaky.

Daryl realized she'd kept her hands carefully stilled, resting lightly on his shoulders, ignoring her natural impulses to return the caresses he'd been starting to give her.

"_Naw—just me."_ he said in a gravel laced whisper. He needed this to be all about her.

She stared at him and he saw her fight with her frustration, dampening it down to give him what he needed. She nodded, agreeing with his rules and shifted onto her back then, putting her hands above her head in a posture of total surrender.

Daryl leaned over her, finding the small carved horn buttons of the plaid shirt and undoing them, one at a time until he had the shirt open and pulled to the sides, showing the changes in her body that the child within had brought. Fuller at the breast, blue veins visible under the milky white skin, her nipples were a duskier rose, tightening as he watched. The swell of her abdomen was volleyball size now, appearing larger in comparison to her slenderness elsewhere. A triangle of white cotton covered her sex, the waist band curved under her belly.

With no preamble he bent to her, his whiskered chin across her collar bone and then kissed her neck. Her skin tasted fruity—mango maybe? Whatever shower gel they'd scavenged most recently; she liked the fruit ones. Coconut-lime, strawberry, peach—he'd liked the peach a lot. She always came to bed clean and sweet smelling here in Alexandria, one of the luxuries of the place. Since he'd started spending his nights in her bed he'd made it his habit to wash up too—only seemed fair. Her threat to hose him down in his sleep when they'd first arrived was now a joke between them.

Carol arched her back a little, loving the feel of his mouth on her, encouraging him to continue with her soft whimpers. In response he cupped her breasts with his hands, brushing the stiff peaks with his thumbs even as he trailed wet kisses back across her collarbone to the other side of her neck.

She was different; _this_ was different than anything that had been done to him while a captive. _He_ was in control; he was doing what _he _wanted to do, giving and taking what _he_ wanted.

"You tender here?" Daryl asked, and then placed a barely there kiss on the top of her right breast. He knew sometimes when she'd been at certain points in her cycle it was painful for her to have too much nipple play, but at others it was something she really got off on. He wasn't sure how the pregnancy would affect them.

"_What you want to do to them? Tell me."_ Carol countered, pushing him to verbalize his desire.

"_Kiss 'em...lick 'em...squeeze 'em...'n suck 'em hard till you come."_ Daryl said hoarsely, resting the side of his face against her chest, rubbing his whiskers over the sensitive tips and pale taut fullness of them. He'd made her come just that way before and they both knew it.

"Not too tender." Carol said quietly and then he could hear the smile in her voice as she added, "Not too tender _anywhere_ you might feel like doing all of that..."

"Keep that in mind." Daryl said, grinning, and then he turned his face so he could use his strong velvet tongue on the skin, both pale and then pebbled rose, and sucked the tight tip into his mouth. He tightened down on it, swirling his tongue around it, his throat working as he suckled. She bucked against him a bit, the pleasure sharp, and he moved his left hand to her hip to hold her steady. As he continued his onslaught at her tits, he felt her hips begin to stir, moving in a rhythm as old as time.

Feeling emboldened by her response, Daryl slowly slid his fingers around the waist of her panties, from her hip to the cotton triangle in front and over it. He felt the heat and dampness underneath when he traced the centerline down between her legs with his middle finger over the cloth.

"_Please..."_ Carol moaned and whimpered in frustration, afraid to push him beyond his comfort zone.

Daryl pushed her panties to the side and slid his finger in to find her wetness, closing his teeth in a light nip over her left nipple and pinching the right, while he slowly circled her swollen clit.

"Oh God!" Carol cried out, edging close to orgasm, forgetting herself, her hands flying down to hold his head to her breast, her fingers tangling in his hair as he licked and sucked there, driving her crazy.

"_Wanna go down on you now—okay?"_ Daryl asked, still peppering her breasts with wet whiskered scratchy kisses.

"_Kay..."_ Carol panted, gripping his hair more tightly.

"But you gotta put your hands back up." Daryl told her, shuddering and against his will flashing unbidden on the memories of rough hands shoving his head down, holding it there, others wrapping around his neck, choking him until he opened his mouth for a dick to be shoved in, jaws throbbing in pain, gagging on the sour bitter...

He froze, the room spinning, confused and suddenly afraid—_where was he? What was he doing?_ He sat up, dazed and embarrassed that he was hard. He felt the slickness on his fingers and raised his hand to his face, smelling and tasting—sweet not bitter—and there was no pain, not in his face or anywhere in his body. There was no familiar stench of sweat and blood and spunk. He looked down and saw that he was clean, on a bed with sheets and blankets and-

"_Daryl?"_ Carol said gently, sitting up next to him but not touching him. His eyes were out of focus and he looked like a rabbit about to bolt from a hawk.

Daryl turned to the voice_. Carol?_ Was he dreaming again? He did that, when they strung him up and made him fuck someone. He tried not to think of her while he did it, didn't want to sully her memory, but it was better than what they did to him to get him hard and to stay that way...

"Are you real?" Daryl asked, sounding scared and lost.

"I'm real. You're home Daryl, you're home and you're _safe_ now." Carol said, trying not to cry. He had been doing so much better. She'd fooled herself into thinking this was all behind them.

"You're real?"Daryl asked her again and she nodded yes. _"Am I?"_ he asked her plaintively.

"Yes, sweetheart, you're real." Carol smiled brokenly at him.

"You're _pregnant_." he said, marveling as he looked down at her, the shirt gaping open to show her belly. "Can I touch it?"

"Of course—it's your baby too." Carol reminded him.

"I did that—it's real—we made a baby." Daryl held out his hand, curving it to the shape of her bare abdomen and laid it on her there.

"Yes Pookie" Carol said as lightly as she could manage, knowing she needed to send someone for Claire. He'd never had such a bad dissociative episode before, at least not when she'd been with him.

Daryl leaned close, smiling, and kissed her belly. Then he curled up on the bed, his head on her lap, facing in so he could put his arms around her and the baby.

"If I'm dreamin' I don't wanna wake up." Daryl said sleepily, nestling in tight.

Carol let him hold her while he fell asleep, wondering if things would ever return to something close to normal.

* * *

"He called himself Negan." Morgan said, the desperate sadness underlying his tone painful to hear. "Said we were trespassing on his territory so we owed him a tariff. Said he needed to make sure we understood what the consequences would be if we didn't take him seriously."

The sounds of Maggie's grief cut through them all. When they'd returned a day ahead of schedule without having called in first everyone knew that something wasn't right. The shrouded body encased in a white sheet darkened over the head to brown with dried blood that they'd lifted from the back of the truck told the tale.

A quick head count showed those at the gate that the casualty had been Glenn. Michonne, dry-eyed and grim, had gone to get Maggie. If her reaction to Daryl bringing Beth's body to her after Grady had been heart breaking, this one tore everyone apart; it gutted them. Glenn was the best of them.

Tara was with her now, in the Infirmary behind them, as were Erin and Claire.

"What the fuck happened?" Abraham demanded.

"It was horrible—they ran us off the road—boxed us in." the clerk, Jessica, who had been from Bethesda, told them.

"Forced us out of the truck—we were surrounded by over twenty men with heavy weapons...they took ours and our comms away and bound us, made us get down on our knees and wait for the leader." Morgan continued the thread of the story.

"He was like Blake only worse." Michonne said flatly. "Sounded jovial, friendly as he walked up and down the line deciding which of us he was going to _kill._"

"He'd _named_ the fucking thing...called it Lucille." Aaron said quietly, "Baseball bat wrapped with barbed wire."

"That's what he used? _On Glenn_?" Eugene said, aghast. He recalled that Glenn had used a bat as a weapon in their escape from Terminus.

"_Oh my God."_ Rosita said, sickened, holding her hand over her mouth.

"The sound...that sick hollow _sound _it made..."Jessica blurted, losing it, crying and then bending over and dry heaving before falling to the ground.

Aaron crouched to help her, supporting her as she wept.

"Where's Rick?" Michonne asked. There was more to this than just Glenn's death, horrible as that was. They needed to figure out their next moves in relation to the new threat posed by this man Negan.

"He's down at the gardens with Carl and the kids—starting the early spring planting." Abe said, "Someone should head over there."

"Me." Michonne said, giving him a quick nod and setting off at a jog.

"And Daryl? Carol?" Aaron asked, imagining the grief they would feel with having known Glenn since the Turn. They were his family.

"Erin put her on bed rest and Daryl's... not feeling very well either. They're at home."Rosita said, unable to share the confidential information she knew about the Archer's PTSD episode last night. Carol had brought him into the Clinic this morning to have both Erin and Claire check him over.

"I'll go." Aaron said, rising, bringing Jessica up with him. "Can you get Jessica home?"

"Of course." Rosita said, taking his place and putting her arm around the other woman and leading her away in the opposite direction.

"Sounds like we are close to drownin' in another ocean of deep shit..." Abraham intoned, spitting onto the street. "Why can't these crazy mother fuckers just leave us the hell alone?"

"We have shit. The motherfuckers want said shit. We kill them or they kill us over said shit." Eugene said flatly. "That's the way it's always been." He rubbed at his tear reddened eyes in his hound dog sad face. "Glenn was my friend. I need to go see Tara." and then he turned and headed inside the Infirmary.

"I say we kill _them_." Abraham growled, glaring at Morgan who just shook his head in sorrow.

* * *

_I know, it took a dark turn, sorry! Sometimes I just have to follow where my Muse is leading &amp; she can be a real bitch. The Daryl/Rick conflict is one I think is building on the show as well. Whether or not it will have anything to do with Carol remains to be seen._

_I adore Glenn &amp; hope that in the show he avoids his comics' fate. When I got that issue I hadn't been spoiled &amp; I just sat there in shock &amp; then cried my eyes out. Kirktroll is the devil._

_Thanks for sticking with this one. We have a ways to go yet. Lots of ripples fan out from this chapter._


	40. 40: Everything That Falls Gets Broken

_**Alexandria mourns one of its own.**_

* * *

_**Everything That Falls Gets Broken**_

"_Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;__  
__ Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,__  
__ The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere__  
__ The ceremony of innocence is drowned;__  
__ The best lack all conviction, while the worst__  
__ Are full of passionate intensity_."_  
-__The Second Coming_ by William Butler Yeats

* * *

"_Get out!"_ Maggie screamed raggedly, her fist connecting with Daryl's jaw again.

"Maggie, stop!" Aaron cried, trying to grab her, but she evaded him and kicked the back of Daryl's knee knocking him off balance before she hit him again, a roundhouse to his gut.

Daryl wasn't fighting back. He doubled over, but then struggled upright again to face her, spitting blood.

"You fucking coward! He's _dead_ because of you!" Maggie yelled at Daryl, hitting him _again_, this time bloodying his nose. When he reeled back Maggie grabbed the knife from the smaller sheath at his belt.

"Maggie, you know it wasn't Daryl's fault." Aaron argued. "It could've been any one of us Negan chose!"

"_He _was supposed to go!" Maggie bit out, backing Daryl into the table where Glenn's body lay covered with a sheet, holding the knife to his throat. "_Not Glenn_!" she sobbed."He might as well have killed him himself!"

"_Enough_ Maggie." Carol said forcefully, and the sound of a round being chambered brought everyone's attention to her. She stood in the doorway holding her snub nose 9 mm handgun two handed, pointing it at Maggie. She was pale, her jacket, an oversized hoodie to fit over her belly, was half unzipped, her flannel night shirt showing underneath, her thin legs encased in black yoga pants, feet shoved quickly into her boots, half unbuckled.

She'd been asleep on the first floor couch when Sam had come running in, looking for Rick or Michonne to break up the fight that had begun when Daryl had tried to talk to Maggie, to somehow apologize and express sympathy for her loss—for all of their losses—over Glenn.

The shock of the news had brought Daryl back to himself after his fugue from the night before, when his flashback had made him unable to distinguish dream from reality.

Real life and death was a nightmare he understood.

"Lower the knife and let him go, Maggie." Rick said, coming in behind Carol, his Python drawn and pointing at her as well. "He just came to pay his respects."

"_He _was supposed to go!" Maggie repeated, the knife, Beth's knife, so finely honed by Daryl, pressed closer to his neck and a drop of blood pooled and ran down from where it touched his skin, soaking into the collar of his shirt.

Daryl stood perfectly still, not arguing with her. Everything she said was right.

"Killing Daryl won't bring Glenn back." Rick said to Maggie, quiet and calm, coming closer, standing next to the examining table.

"Did you _see_ what they _did_ to him?" Maggie sobbed, asking Daryl, glancing at the shrouded remains.

"Maggie _don't._" Aaron said. He'd witnessed the younger man's horrific death and knew better than anyone what was under that sheet.

"_Look!"_ Maggie screamed, ignoring him, ripping off the cloth that covered the body of her husband.

As used to the mangled remains of the dead as they were, it was an abomination to see what Negan had done. If Morgan, Michonne, Aaron and Jessica hadn't witnessed the murder first hand, it would've been impossible to tell the victim had been Glenn. He hadn't merely hit him in the head with the vicious weapon, a modern mace made from razor wire and aluminum; he'd beaten it to an unrecognizable bloody pulp.

"_Fuck."_ Daryl whispered, closing his eyes against the image, his look of grief profound.

"_Oh God..." _Carol said, fighting her tears to keep her aim steady, but swaying a bit.

"Maggie, please." Rick pleaded, putting his Colt on the examining table, his hands held up to show her he wasn't carrying any more weapons. "Carol put down your gun." he ordered.

"Not until she lets Daryl go." Carol said, her voice steely again.

"I know what you're feeling, both of you, but this_ isn't_ what we do." Rick said gently. "Maggie..."

"I've lost... _everything._.." Maggie said, "What did I ever do to deserve that?"

"We've all lost someone, Maggie." Rick said, "None of us deserved it. Carol didn't deserve to see her daughter come out of that barn a walker; are you going to stand there and tell me that she deserves to lose the man she loves too?"

Maggie shook her head and tightened her grip on Daryl, more blood flowing from the wound in his neck

"Would Glenn want you to do this? Would Hershel? Beth?" Rick asked her, "Is this how you honor them?"

Maggie faltered, knowing she was wrong, but so deep in her misery and grief that she fought it..

"It's _okay,_ Maggie. I understand..." Daryl said softly, his voice rising in sympathy, wincing against the pain, "Do what ya gotta do." He raised his chin and closed his eyes, his shoulders relaxing, giving up.

"_Daryl, no!"_ Carol cried, recognizing the tone of resignation in his voice; it was almost exactly what she'd said to Tyreese when she'd slid him the gun across the table after confessing to killing Karen. Her vision seemed to waver, blurring at the edges and she swayed, fighting the waves of dizziness, but then her knees just gave out and she spiraled to the ground with an angry helpless cry, landing on her side in a heap.

Faster than a distracted Maggie could react, Daryl spun back and brought his hand up to block the knife at his throat and grabbed her wrist, twisting it until she dropped the blade, and then he kicked it towards Aaron.

"_Rick!"_ Daryl said, pushing Maggie towards him and then going to Carol.

Rick subdued Maggie, holding her against him until she stopped fighting and dissolved into painfully raw sobs.

All of this happened in less than fifteen seconds from the time Carol hit the ground.

"_Get Erin!"_ Daryl yelled at Aaron, picking up Carol's gun and putting it in the back waist band of his jeans and then scooping her up. He carried her to one of the beds along the wall and laid her down, checking her carotid pulse, feeling her forehead and looking her over.

"The fuck you thinkin'?"Daryl knelt on his knees next to the bed and held Carol's hand, looking sick and scared, "Didn't have to come chargin' in here after me!"

Aaron was already out the door, calling for the doctor who had left to go get some dinner before Daryl's arrival.

"_Not your fault."_ Carol said in a forced whisper. _"Glenn...not your fault... know you...blame yourself..."_

"Rosita! Cover him up." Erin said as she strode through the room, past Glenn's body, followed by her nurse. "Give Maggie a sedative and then have someone take her home." she paused briefly to slather her hands and lower arms in hand sanitizer before coming over to Carol's bed.

Rick and Rosita tended to Maggie while Erin put on her stethoscope and bent to check Carol's vital signs, attaching the blood pressure cuff, working quickly.

"Take off her boots, leggings, and any underwear so I can do an exam." she ordered Daryl.

"Is she okay?" Daryl asked the doctor as he did what she asked.

"I need to check her over before I can know what's going on—what happened?" Erin asked.

"She looked dizzy—her eyes was all funny and then she just started going down—" Daryl said, guilt laden. _He'd caused this too..._

"I've... been spotting... all morning." Carol said softly, her eyes fluttering open. Even her vaunted strength and stoicism was having a hard time withstanding the shock of hearing about Glenn and then Sam's panicked summons to the Infirmary. Seeing Maggie ready to cut Daryl's throat? It was too much.

"_What?"_ Daryl asked, in a softly shocked voice.

"It's normal to spot in the third trimester." Erin said calmly, "I need to make sure it's nothing else, okay?" She put a blanket drape over Carol's legs and then raised them into position so she could examine her.

Daryl looked over to see Rick carrying an unconscious Maggie in his arms. He paused to let Rosita open the door for him. The scene was so reminiscent of him carrying Beth out of Grady that Daryl had to close his eyes and turn away.

It was too much. _All of it. _

Daryl dropped his chin to his chest and had to bite his lip, overwhelmed with the urge to just get up and run, find his bike and just go—leave—get outside the walls and just ride away from the fucking mess he'd made of everything. They'd all be better off without him. He'd broken everything precious and good he'd ever had.

He started to pull away, but felt Carol's small callused hand tighten on his.

"_Don't."_ Carol said, her quiet voice rough with tears. "No matter what—just _don't_. I can't lose you too."

_Christ, what was he doing?_ Daryl thought, opening his eyes and looking down at her pale face. He met her eyes then and saw her fear and sadness, equal to his own. She'd loved Glenn too, was probably blaming herself for being the reason Daryl had stayed, was terrified she was losing the baby and he'd been thinking of running away and leaving her to deal with all of that on her own. He was better than that now—_she'd_ helped make him better than that.

"Ain't goin' nowhere." Daryl said firmly and Carol's lips curled into a hopeful little rueful smile.

"Good to hear." Erin said, removing the stethoscope from her ears, dropping the blanket back down and gently lowering Carol's legs to the bed. "Carol—you're going to have to take the bed rest order as absolute if you want to have this baby anywhere near to full term."

"They're okay?" Daryl asked all in a relieved rush.

"Yes. For now. The baby's heart rate is on the high end of the acceptable range and the bleeding has stopped. Carol, your heart rate and blood pressure are higher than I'd like, but knowing what just happened, it's understandable." The doctor sat down on the bed next to Carol and looked at both of them with a sober expression.

Carol looked at Daryl, mirroring his look of tentative relief.

"You cannot let this kind of stress happen any more if at all possible—you already have risk factors for pre-eclampsia which can be very dangerous even with the best of modern medicine available." Yang told them.

"So what do we need to do next?" Daryl asked, a determined look on his face.

"I want to do a blood test and a _proteinuria urine test_ and she needs to have her blood pressure monitored regularly_." The doctor said. "Then she needs _quiet and rest—I'd keep her here in the Infirmary, but with..." she looked over at the shrouded body on the table, "...I think it's best you take her home."

"But who will take care of Glenn?" Carol fretted. She'd wanted to give him that final care, prepare his body as she'd done for Andrea and Tyreese and Beth and so many of their family before.

"You don't gotta." Daryl said, quietly amazed but not surprised to hear her thinking of everyone but herself again.

"Tara and me." Rosita said, coming forward, her eyes red from her tears. "We loved him too."

Carol stared at her and then finally nodded, her tears for her friends, her family, for all of their losses trailing down her face.

"Let's get that cut cleaned up before you go." Erin said, gesturing at Daryl's throat. "See if I need to throw in a stitch or two or if I can just glue it."

Rosita was setting out the alcohol prep and a suture kit for her on the tray stand near the exam table.

"And here—Aaron said to give this back to you." Erin said as she stood, handing Daryl the smaller knife, the one that had been Beth's, that Carol had given him. Daryl had to release Carol's hand to take it and replaced it in the sheath and then he stood.

* * *

"You should go." Carol said, looking at Daryl over the top of her mug of hot cocoa he had brought her along with a plate of cookies he and Sam had made as a snack. She was up in their room, which had been augmented with a small entertainment system in the form of a rechargeable DVD player, piles of books and a box of DVDs and CDs. There was also a thermometer, stethoscope and blood pressure cuff on the end table, a crate of bottled water, boxed juices that didn't need refrigeration, saltines and a few small jars of home canned applesauce.

Glenn's funeral was this morning and everyone else in the house had already headed for the cemetery a few minutes ago.

"Don't think she wants me there." Daryl replied. He'd failed Maggie over and over. He hadn't found the Governor and Hershel had died, he'd lost Beth and then Grady had happened, and now Glenn...

Carol gave him a narrow eyed look.

"'Sides—need to stay here n' look after you." Daryl said, setting down the plate of cookies and sitting down on the bed next to her. He'd barely left her side since he'd carried her home last night.

"Gray's on guard duty on the porch, Riley will be here with Judith and Sam's staying with me—we're starting our chess tournament." Carol deflected his objection; the boy had already been to too many funerals and had asked permission to stay home. Daryl wasn't going to get the same. "You need to go—for _you_. You've known Glenn longer than almost anyone here."

"You knew him just as long." Daryl said. She and Carl were the only two other original survivors besides him from the quarry Camp before Rick's arrival. They'd seen Glenn go from an exuberant capable kid to a formidable caring man.

"That's right—and I can't go, so you need to be there for the both of us." Carol said, wrapping up her argument. "It's important Daryl."

"She blames me, Carol." Daryl intoned flatly, "Hell, _I _blame me."

"I know you'd trade your life for any one of us." Carol told him, leaning against his shoulder, "Maggie knows that too, or she will, once she gets a little distance from this." she didn't say 'get over it,' because she knew Maggie never would—what was it Andrea used to say? _You don't forget; you just make room for it..._

"So I'm supposed to accept that Glenn traded his for mine?" Daryl said, his voice troubled and low as he looked down at the floor, his hands clenched.

"It was random. The luck of the draw—you heard what Aaron said: it could have been any one of them. This man, Negan, he's another Governor, another one like the woman I left for dead at Terminus—he's twisted and sick. The sooner we can put him down the better." Carol put her hand over his fist, unsurprised to find it trembling with barely contained agitation.

"Ain't no place safe no more." Daryl said, despair under lacing his words, "there's always goin' to be another one a' these assholes tryin' to take what's ours."

Carol reached up her other hand and turned his face to hers, her hand cupping his cheek.

"_We're still here."_ she said with gentle forcefulness. "And so we keep fighting—we never give up—that's what _you_ taught me." she told him.

Daryl looked into her eyes and saw her love, saw her _hope_ underlying the sadness over the death of their friend.

"We're still here." Daryl repeated, sounding calmer, letting her pull him into her arms.

* * *

The assembled, which was most of the town's residents except those on watch or too young or ill to join them, stood at the graveside. Rick, wearing his constable's uniform, stood next to Carl and Michonne. Maggie stood between Tara and Sasha, who watched over her, as did Abraham and Rosita who stood right behind her along with Eugene: GREATM without its 'G'.

"When all of this started, I was helped to find my family by two men who saved my life. One of them gave me shelter and taught me how to survive in this new reality. I will be always in his debt for that." Rick looked over at Morgan, who acknowledged him with a slight nod, his face remaining stoic. "The second, Glenn, saved me when my ignorance had me trapped up that proverbial creek without a paddle. He gave me a way out and helped reunite me with the people I loved. I will be forever grateful to him for everything he was to me...to all of us."

Rick stepped back and looked at the crowd, motioning anyone else who wished to speak forward.

Tara took a small step towards the grave.

"Glenn never lost hope. Even after everything we went through. He saved my life and gave me a reason to keep going." Tara said, wiping her eyes, willing herself through what she needed to say, "His devotion and love for Maggie and the rest of his family was more...more..." but she couldn't finish, her tears blinding her.

Eugene went to her, putting his arm around her side in support.

"I do not expect that I will ever be as good a man as Glenn was. He was kind and brave and strong and good and I will miss him the rest of my life." Eugene said, and then even his flat demeanor broke, tears running down his face as Tara pulled him in, embracing him in a hug.

Others came forward, saying their eulogies one after another, an outpouring of love and grief, trying to comfort Maggie and make sense of their loss.

Through it all Daryl stood at the edges, right behind Aaron and Eric. He was absently touching the rough edges of the bandage at his neck with the tips of his fingers when he felt someone's gaze on him.

Maggie found and met his eyes. _'I'm sorry_,' she mouthed silently.

The corner of Daryl's mouth tilted in a sad small smile of understanding, which she returned before they both looked back to watch and listen to Abraham's colorful goodbye.

They'd get through this. They always did. In one form or another, the broken would be mended and they'd go on.

* * *

From his vantage point in the tallest lob-lolly pine tree of the grove outside the city walls, Paul Monroe, whose beard and long hair had led his friends to give him the nickname 'Jesus,' watched the ceremony through his binoculars, noting with approval that the people here still held to the traditions of mourning the dead, something Negan and his so-called Saviors did not do.

It was a good sign.

* * *

_-__The Second Coming_ by Yeats is a poem about the Apocalypse and the expectation of the return of the Christian savior, Jesus Christ.

Note: In the comics Rick is the one who Maggie blames for Glenn's death (it happens in front of them) and she goes after him in the same way I have her attacking Daryl in this chapter. Carl is the one who pulls the gun to stop her in the canon comic version.


	41. Chapter 41: Golgotha

The silent observer from Hilltop finally makes his presence known.

* * *

_**Golgotha**_

_Golgotha: a hilltop near Jerusalem; Cavalry; the place of the skull; where Jesus was crucified._

* * *

"I want you to promise me." Carol said again, her voice firm.

"I can't... I won't... 'sides, it ain't gonna come to that." Daryl said, angry that she wouldn't let it go.

"Negan's coming—you know he is." Carol said adamantly, "If Rick thinks he can negotiate... well, you told me how well that worked with the Governor... that's the definition of insanity, right? Doing the same things over and over and expecting different results?"

The sound of shouting and rapid rise and fall of many feet outside the house had him jumping up from the kitchen table where they'd been sitting talking after their meeting with Erin and Claire trying to make some decisions before the baby came.

Carol grunted with the effort to do the same and he turned to help her, more conscious than ever how carrying their child had made her vulnerable in a way she hasn't been since they'd first met back in that quarry outside Atlanta. She was smart as hell and dead sure with weapons now, but she couldn't run... and in the end that's what they always had to do...

"You stay here with Jude; I'll go check it out." Daryl told her and she nodded, pursing her lips, obviously frustrated with her limitations. He paused to give her a quick kiss.

"Stay safe." Carol said and the corner of his mouth turned up at the oft uttered blessing and he nodded, his hair falling back over his eyes as he grabbed up his bow and headed outside.

When Daryl got on the porch Enid, Riley and Carl were just running up with Sam in tow.

"There's a stranger at the gate—showed himself when Abe and Michonne were coming in from a run and beat the crap outa them!" Enid said, sounding amazed.

Someone who could get the drop on Michonne and put a beat down on Abraham was an extremely dangerous individual.

"You get inside and help Carol watch out for little ass kicker, hear me?" Daryl ordered Carl and Sam and then looked at Enid, "Where's your brother?"

"In the tower, why?" the girl asked, scowling at him defensively.

"I ain't accusing him of anything, but he can tell us if this new one was with the Wolves." Daryl said.

"So can I." said Riley, the young girl trembling, hands closed into fists, forcing her fear back.

Daryl stared at her skeptically but then agreed, nodding his head.

"Come on then." he said, "Rest a' you get inside and help Carol." and then took off at a jog, then a run when he saw she was keeping up. Half way down the block they were joined by Aaron, who sent Eric back to the house to help protect Carol and the kids.

* * *

Michonne had a scowl that rivaled the worst Daryl could do when they arrived at the gates. She was holding a second katana and a knit watch cap and was staring daggers at the intruder in front of them, who was being guarded with a shotgun by a bruised and battered Abraham. The new man was on his knees, hands held above his head, with a placid expression on his face while he answered the questions Rick was asking.

Long hair tied back off his face and styled in a "man bun" he also had a beard and wise dark eyes that, like Morgan's, like Carol's, seemed to take in everything around him with a look of calculation. They weren't cold and reptilian though, not like the Governor's or Merle's when coked or methed out. His gaze was one of interest, somehow warm and engaging.

"I'm not who you think I am. You send people out—hot guy on a hot bike, another in a butt ugly red car—ask people, invite them in if they pass muster. I do the same for our place." the man was telling Rick.

"You're armed to the teeth—took down two of our best like it was nothing." Rick said, gesturing to Abe and Michonne.

"Just because I can defend myself doesn't mean I go looking for a fight." the man said sensibly.

Sensing Daryl's arrival, Rick turned, saw he had Riley and Aaron with him and frowned.

"She should be in shelter—" Rick began, but was interrupted by the man who was staring at the new arrivals.

"You got away from them." the new man said, nodding his head, sounding impressed, looking at the "W" on her forehead. Daryl's was obscured by his fall of hair.

"He's not one of them." Riley announced. "I've never seen him before."

"Just because he wasn't with the Wolves doesn't mean he isn't with Negan." Michonne argued.

"You think I'm a Savior?" the man scoffed, "Those murdering fuckers are who I'm here to talk to you people about."

"What's your name?" Daryl asked.

"Paul, Paul Monroe, but my friends call me Jesus." the new man grinned. "More for the resemblance than the attitude or the martyr complex."

Aaron and Daryl exchanged a look with Rick, Michonne and Abe at the last name, the same as the former leader of their community.

"How many walkers have you killed?" Daryl continued, making Rick look at him in surprise.

"You mean the dead? Too many to count, why?" Monroe asked.

"How many people?" Daryl went on.

"Since this whole thing started, seventeen." Jesus said, "Before that one."

"Why?"

"Because they were trying to kill me and mine." he said, looking Daryl right in the eye, "I protect the ones I care about. Same as you."

"What do you want?" Riley asked, coming closer to the kneeling man, making them all glance at her.

"Negan and his Saviors have set up camp in a factory complex half way between here and my settlement. They're collecting tribute from all the communities around here, draining our resources like a cancer. We have supplies and walls, just like you, but power is in people and we don't have the numbers to take him on. We want to talk, see if we can work together, set up trade."

"An alliance." Aaron nodded. "Makes sense."

"How do we know this asshole's not _with_ Negan?" Abraham growled, still smarting from the beat down the smaller man had dealt out. "Could be trying to assess our defenses, our man power..."

"If I was then you'd be screwed, Abe. I've been watching your compound for the last two weeks. Another one of our scouts spotted Aaron and Daryl on the road a few months ago and trailed them back here. I'm sorry about your friend Glenn by the way; he was a good man judging from the eulogies. Your power grid browns a bit after a few cloudy days in a row—should think of adding wind in addition to solar—I'd put Eugene on that sooner rather than later." Monroe stopped, knowing he'd said enough to make his point by how shocked they all looked.

"_Fuck."_ Michonne said softly, speaking for them all.

"Two of the people I killed were Savior scouts sent to check you out in the last two weeks. Negan seems to be expanding his territory and you're next. It's in all our best interests to form this alliance." Monroe explained.

"If you knew, why didn't you warn us?" Rick asked, angry now. If they hadn't gone on the run to Bethesda, Glenn would still be alive.

"I was under orders to approach you only _after_ he made contact." Jesus said, sounding sorrowful. "We didn't think_... I_ didn't think he'd go after you on a run; I was wrong."

"You killing his scouts..." Michonne accused, taking a step towards him as if she wanted to beat him down.

"May have set him off; I know. I'm sorry, but I couldn't have them report back to Negan that they saw me here. There's been no new ones since you got back, that's what I approached the gates today. We have a slim window before they show up for the first collections."

"A window for what?" Rick asked.

"To bring you to Hilltop to meet with our leader, Gregory to talk about aligning to go against Negan and to do some mutually beneficial trading." Monroe said and then he looked at Rick, "Our power grid is very low tech, car batteries mostly; we could use someone like Eugene to take a look at it."

"Sounds like we need a Council meeting." Michonne said, looking over at Rick and Daryl.

"You'll let me present my case?" Monroe asked hopefully.

"I don't think we have much choice." Rick told him. "Negan strikes me as the kind of monster who keeps his promises."

* * *

"Daryl, right?" Monroe asked the man who'd been assigned to guard him while the Council was being assembled. They were on the porch of the town hall home, the newcomer sitting in a chair, his hands bound in front of him.

Daryl grunted an affirmative reply, leaning on the wall, his crossbow cocked and ready at his side.

"You and Aaron—you stopped going on runs."

Daryl raised an eyebrow that clearly asked what the fuck business was it of _his_ who went on runs?

"You and he aren't together anymore?" Monroe pressed.

"Huh?" Daryl's head went back and he frowned.

"I've seen him...with that other guy, the pale one with a limp... kissing... wondered if that meant you're a free agent now." Monroe shrugged. "If you are, just thought I'd let you know I'm interested. No strings—you're hot and I been alone on the road for a long time..."

Daryl's mouth came open and he bristled for a few seconds and then grunted out a chuckle.

"Barkin' up the wrong tree, sunshine." Daryl said laconically, shifting to stand straight, looking at the group coming up the sidewalk, which included Maggie, Michonne, Erin and Carol, who was moving slowly but steadily, her arm linked with the doctor's.

"'Chonne?" Daryl asked, gesturing to Jesus, and the sword master hurried forward to take over watch while Daryl went quickly down the steps to Carol, slinging his bow over his shoulder as he moved.

Monroe watched as the Archer reached the pregnant woman, who he greeted with gentle concern, looking ready to pick her up and carry her if need be. She swatted him away, smiling and he smiled back with such a look of devotion it was almost painful to witness. Loving that deeply always hurt these days.

"His?" Monroe asked Michonne as Daryl took Erin's place at Carol's side, helping her up the sidewalk and to the steps.

Michonne nodded, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Must be a hell of a story." the scout mused, wondering how he could've read Daryl so wrong. The petite, helpless-looking gray haired woman was _pregnant_ with the sexy as fuck Archer's child?

"They're in love and made a baby. The end." Michonne shrugged, motioning for him to stand up while Maggie, glaring at him, opened the door and passed through. Erin went next, also after casting a suspicious glance his way.

Carol and Daryl stopped in front of Michonne and Monroe and Carol tilted her head slightly as she unsmilingly looked into his eyes.

Jesus realized then she was anything but helpless as her warning gaze bore into him. He'd been questioning her presence among the other strong personalities he'd met so far, but she was steel and ice as she assessed him. At her hip just behind the swell of her belly was a wicked looking trench knife and he could very well imagine her using it on anyone who threatened those she loved.

"Congratulations." Monroe said, his head dipping to indicate the baby. "We have a doctor, Denise, an OBGYN actually, who-."

"Inside, Mr. Monroe." Carol said, stopping his sales pitch and nodding towards the interior, "You don't want to flash your Aces before the game begins."

"After you." Jesus said, nodding deferentially.

"You could do your hair like that." Carol mused quietly to Daryl as they passed through the door ahead of Michonne and Jesus, "It's kinda _sexy_..."

"_Stop."_ Daryl said, long suffering, making both Michonne and Monroe grin wryly.

* * *

_Paul Monroe is one of the biggest bad-asses in the comics and will most certainly be joining the show this season as we move into the Hilltop arc. He is also gay; a detail which I hope isn't lost in translation as they move him to TV. Carol's pregnancy is really kicking her ass and keeping her mostly at home which is why Jesus hadn't seen her out and about with his observations of Alexandria and so doesn't associate her with Daryl in any way. He's attracted to Daryl and not shy about making his preferences known; in his mind, life's short, why wait?_

_Thanks for sticking with me on this one! Life's been super busy lately, but I'll keep plugging away at my WIPs as time allows!_


	42. Chapter 42: A Devastating Place

_A dangerous mission to Hilltop to create an alliance with new arrival Jesus means the group is split, with those remaining in Alexandria facing the preparation of the walled city's defenses for the imminent arrival of Negan and the Saviors._

* * *

_**A Devastating Place**_

"_The world is a devastating place. You must learn to protect your emotions if you wish to prevent matters both of law and of love from devastating you."_ –Lord Mansfield, _Belle_ (2013)

* * *

"I don't like it." Daryl said stubbornly from his place leaning on the wall behind Carol, who was seated on the couch in the living room of their house.

"Then come up with an alternative." Rick said, growing impatient, pacing across the room.

"We have to get this done as soon as possible." Carol said, "Negan gave us one week to have his tribute ready. He'll be here in five days."

"With the roads the way they are, it's a day's drive to Hilltop." Jesus said from his place in the doorway, "Stay one night for the negotiations, come back the next day—that's the best I can do."

"You have to have enough people on the run to be safe, but leave enough behind to protect home." Maggie said, sitting next to Carol, looking around the room.

"I ain't goin' no where." Daryl said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'll stay." Abraham echoed.

"I'll go." Michonne volunteered and Morgan nodded as well.

"That should be enough." Rick said, turning to Jesus. "We'll take the minivan so we're not in separate vehicles—"

"I'm going." Maggie announced, making Carol turn to her and lay her hand on the younger woman's knee with concern.

"Maggie, no." Carol said, worried that the young widow's emotions were still too raw to let her think clearly.

"If it's a chance to stop the bastard that killed Glenn I have to." Maggie told them. "I can't just sit back behind these walls and do nothing."

"Protecting our family isn't doing nothing." Rick said with a deferential nod to Abe and Daryl.

"That isn't what I meant... I know that... I just... I just need to get out of here for awhile... _please_?" Maggie asked, fighting her tears. "I need to feel like I'm taking some action."

Rick studied her face and then finally nodded in assent.

"All right, we have enough people here to hold down the fort." Rick said. "Keep someone in the tower at all times and make sure Eugene double checks the power and surveillance grids at least twice a day—we can't afford something like the Wolves happening again."

"Nobody's getting in." Abe said, "You go do what you gotta do to work that alliance so we can kick that mother dick's balls up into his _ass_."

Rick grinned, Jesus laughed, Maggie rolled her eyes and Carol turned to Daryl and made the same face she had on the road out of Atlanta two years ago when Daryl explained why Merle had a stash of extra strength antibiotics.

There was a knock on the door and Morgan went to see who was there. A minute or two later he came back in with Grayson.

"Boy has something to ask." Morgan announced and then stepped back to let him speak.

"You saved me and my sister—gave us a home here—and you didn't have to do that. I want to do my part to protect this place." Grayson said.

"We need good lookouts at the gate, Gray." Rick told him.

"I want to go with you—on the run to Hilltop." Grayson said quickly. "I've been out there, I'm good with weapons. I can back you up."

Rick gave him a narrow eyed look and then looked around the table for a consensus on the request. The reluctant Wolf had been a good addition to the community. He had useful skills and his sense of loyalty and love for his sister gave him ties here.

"Any reason you want to go on this particular run?" Morgan asked, curious.

"I just want to do my part." Gray said, but Carol noticed that his gaze darted to Maggie quickly before landing back on Morgan.

"The more the merrier." Jesus said with a grin, looking the handsome young man up and down with open interest, making Daryl snort out a disparaging grunt.

"You got him then—just make sure you stay out of his little sister's way when she finds out." Abe said with a wry smirk. They all knew Enid would be less than pleased to see her brother head out on a run.

* * *

"Do you think it's such a good idea to take Maggie?" Carol asked Rick, standing in the doorway of his room as he packed a backpack for the trip.

"I think it'll help her to have something else to think about, something to keep her busy, keep her moving forward." Rick replied.

"She'd on a thin edge, Rick. You know what that's like..." Carol said carefully, needing him to remember but not get caught up in those memories.

"I know what falling _over_ the edge is like." Rick said, pausing for his work to look up at her. "I lost myself after Lori... and again after the prison fell... when I thought I'd lost Judith. Only thing I had left was Carl. That kept me moving, keeping my son alive. Maggie doesn't have that. In the last six months she saw her father brutally murdered, saw Daryl carry her sister's body out of that hospital and she just buried her husband a couple of days ago."

"She has this place. She has us." Carol told him.

"When you lost Sophia, is that what kept you going?" Rick asked her, his brow wrinkling into a frown.

Carol stared at him, wondering after all they'd been through together if he could ever really understand her. He'd probably come closest when he'd asked her if there was anything she wouldn't do for their family. Right before he accused her of murder.

"I kept going because there were people who needed me to." Carol said quietly.

"That first winter you took good care of Lori... Carl and Beth needed you too... but I think... I think the one who needed you most was Daryl." Rick said, surprising her.

Carol's expression showed it and Rick gave her a rueful smile.

"When he went with Merle? After Woodbury? He didn't just go off. We tried to convince him to stay—argued with him. You know what Glenn said_? What do you want us to tell Carol? _Glenn knew. We _all_ knew how much you cared about each other." He looked pointedly at the evidence of it she carried and then met her eyes, his voice softening. "I _am_ happy for you, you know. That you're together...and for the baby."

"We don't need your blessing, Rick." Carol said, her tone measured, not angry, more dismissive than anything.

"Erin said bed rest. This ain't our _bed._ Let's go." Daryl's exasperated order to Carol cut off any reply Rick might've made. He came up behind her in the hallway and then just scooped her up into his arms.

"Have a safe trip, Rick." Carol said over Daryl's shoulder as he carried her back down the hall.

"I'll watch out for her—for Maggie—I will." Rick promised, hoping he could keep this one.

* * *

"I think you're about six weeks." Dr. Cloyd, the Hilltop OBGYN told a weeping Maggie.

She'd gotten sick on the way there and remembering the devastation of the outbreak at the Prison had insisted on isolating herself until the doctor could be brought to examine her.

"I'm sorry... It's early enough... if you don't want..." Denise began, wondering if the pregnancy was a result of rape, something she'd seen all too often since this all started, but Maggie started laughing instead, a bit hysterically.

"My husband...Maggie said, wiping her eyes. "He just... I just lost him."

"I'm sorry..." the doctor said sympathetically, but sounded confused.

"I very much _want_." Maggie said, placing her hand on her abdomen and smiling wide in bittersweet disbelief. "I want this baby more than anything. He would've been so happy."

The doctor smiled sadly and nodded, placing her hand reassuringly on Maggie's shoulder.

"Well then, let's get you set up with some crackers and tea to start out with—settle your stomach—and we'll talk prenatal care, all right?" she asked gently, "Is there someone you want me to call for you?"

"The woman who came in with me—Michonne?" Maggie asked, knowing that her friend would share in her happiness and understand the pain she felt at this news as well.

"It was for the best—she needed to get away from here for a while and the doctor there is a specialist. That baby means so much to her; to all of us." Michonne said placatingly. Maggie's decision to remain at Hilltop for the time being wasn't sitting well with Rick.

"I suppose you're right...I just don't understand why Grayson felt he needed to stay too." Rick said. "As if I didn't already have a hard enough time keeping Enid from running off after she has a fight with Ron or Carl."

"He promised Glenn." Morgan said quietly.

"What?" Rick asked.

"Before the last run. Glenn took him aside and asked him to watch over Maggie for him. Said he knew the boy had a crush on her so he'd do the right thing and make sure she stayed safe." Morgan shrugged, "Glenn was good at reading people."

"How on earth do you know that?" Rick wondered.

"I listen." Morgan said with a patient small smile.

Rick snorted as the van turned the last corner to the road leading to the main gates of Alexandria.

"Oh my God..." Rick said, his voice as devastated as what remained of the entrance. Someone had moved a school bus in front to block the gap, but the gate itself was lying mangled and twisted to either side of the opening. The rest of the wall seemed intact, whether by luck or design he couldn't be sure. Walkers, about a dozen, milled around the entrance looking for a way in.

He pulled the van up as close as possible to the bus. Jesus, Michonne and Morgan leapt out the side door to take out the walkers there while Rick did the same from the front.

"_Rick?"_ the yell came from the top of the wall not the church tower— the building looked like it had taken a mortar hit, shearing off the pointed peak It was Sasha, still on guard.

"Sasha!" Rick yelled back and then heard the bus start up and move ahead so that they could pull the van through.

Standing on the other side was Abraham, Eric, Eugene and Claire, all of them looking haunted and/or damaged. Abe's left arm was in a sling, Eric was half holding up Eugene, who had a ragged cut across his forehead, the left side of his face completely darkened with ugly purpling bruising, and Claire's eyes were pools of sorrow.

"What the hell happened?" Rick asked.

"He came early." Claire said simply.

"How bad?" Jesus asked.

"We were short—so we told him if we gave him what he'd asked we wouldn't have enough to feed ourselves and have seed for next year's crop." Abe explained.

"He said that sounded reasonable so we could make it up to him another way..." Claire said, her voice choked with emotion, and then put her face in her hands. Abe's arm went around her shoulders, pulling her close to comfort her.

"That we had something else of value he wanted." Eric said, angry tears running down his face.

"No..." Jesus said, looking sick, "Oh _fuck_ no."

"_What?"_ Rick asked, the quiet sorrow on all their faces making him start to lose it.

"He took Carol...Tara, Enid, Rosita and Erin..." Eugene said, his eyes reddening as he tried to keep from crying.

"Riley hid with Judith—she's safe." Abe said quickly at the look of panic on Rick's face.

"Carol?" Morgan asked, leaning heavily on his staff.

"She showed herself to distract them from finding Judith and the rest of us," Claire said, her tears spilling over.

"Daryl?" Rick asked, dreading the answer. The Archer would've died before he'd let Carol be taken.

"Hurt but alive; we have him doped up in the Infirmary or he'd have gone after them single-handedly." Claire said.

Before Rick's sigh of relief at that news left him, Abe rendered the last blow.

"I'm sorry, Rick but Carl's missing as well." Abe said, knowing Rick had to be told, but dreading his reaction, "We think he stowed away in one of their trucks."

"_Carl?" _Rick staggered a bit and Morgan reached out and steadied him.

* * *

"You _promised._" Sam said softly to Daryl's unconscious form, his face pale, eyes burning with sadness, anger and reproach. "You promised you'd keep her safe."

"Sam stop—Daryl did everything he could—he almost _died_." Aaron said, stopping his examination of Ron to look over at the boy who was sitting at Daryl's bedside.

"But they _took_ her! How're we ever gonna get her back? What if he hurts her and the baby?" the little boy asked, his voice rising in volume and pitch.

"We'll figure it out." Aaron said sharply, "When the others get back—"

"What if they don't come back?" Sam wanted to know. "What if Negan killed them with Lucille like he did Mr. Glenn?"

Daryl had left Erin and Sam inside the basement safe room with Carol, Riley and Judith while he headed out to fight off the intruders.

When Spencer had fired from the church tower, trying to stop the two men who'd set the charges, Negan shot a shoulder launched mortar at him and then blew the gates. Daryl had been standing off to one side and had been hit, knocked off his feet by the blast debris and slammed into one of the parked cars.

The first thing the warlord had done when he'd strolled through the destroyed gates had been to introduce them to his bat, swinging it and bragging about how the blood and dark hair still encrusted Lucille's barbed wire belonged to the young Asian.

"Your friend Rick owes me the rest of my tribute." Negan had said, his voice loud but melodious and warm like a 'man of the streets' politician. His smile was big and warm as well, but his eyes were cold.

When they had been unable to produce the required amount of goods as tribute Negan had said he was also owed for the three men Rick and his group had killed in the ambush of the Bethesda group.

"They were good men—trained, disciplined—so I need something worth _more_ than them." Negan said walking in a circle, swinging his bat, and then he stopped in front of Abraham. "I need an _heir_. Someone to leave my Empire to after I am gone; someone I can train up from an early age to walk in my footsteps...raise up right. Now you may be thinking, _Hey now, son, there is one little step before that you need to have happen_—_you need a __momma__ for said heir_. So I say, bring out your women! Especially any one's already cookin' with a full oven or already has rug rats so's I know they're fertile myrtles. Need some pretty little things too—decorative like—I need to see pretty things around me too."

"Not happening." Abraham said, pointing his pistol at the leader of the Saviors.

Faster than Abe could react Negan swung Lucille, snapping the bones in the other man's forearm and sending the gun flying to land at Eugene's feet. When Porter bent to pick it up Negan lashed out with a brutal kick to Eugene's head, the heavy steel toed boots cutting into his forehead, a boot print bruise already blooming over his cheek as he lay there, moaning in pain. Abraham sat on the ground next to him, holding his broken and bloody arm, in agony but too proud to make a sound.

"Now boys, there's no call for that." Negan chided.

Rosita and Tara quickly moved to help Abe and Eugene.

"Just so you understand your choices have consequences, I'm afraid I'm going to have to take _your_ women." Negan said, pointing at the women, who were immediately seized by several of Negan's men.

Not the kind who went down without a fight, Rosita and Tara resisted until Negan pulled the gun from his belt and pointed it at Abraham's head and then rested Lucille on Eugene's shoulder.

"Ladies?" Negan admonished them, "Now if you would be so kind as to tell me the names and locations of all of the other women in this lovely little burg? Or does Lucile make a new friend outa the mullet head—and by friend I mean, his brain splattered all over her lovely hide."

"Got one here boss—a young un!" one of the minions called out and dragged Enid into the circle.

"Let her go!" Ron cried, rushing forward to attack the man who held the girl but was backhanded hard, sending him reeling into the pack of Saviors who proceeded to punch and kick him until he passed out, curled inward, trying to protect his underbelly and face from their cruel blows.

"We'll never tell you where they are." Enid sneered up at the ringleader, her tear filled eyes defiant.

"Start the house to house, boys. Bring me all the women and children. Kill any men you find cowering with 'em." Negan ordered.

"Stop this!" the strong voice of command rang out from behind the crowd and they parted for its owner who walked with her head held high despite her slow pace.

"Oh my my my... the silver Madonna speaks!" Negan said, his face beaming. He reholstered his gun and raised his bat to his shoulder as he walked forward to meet Carol.

"I'll go with you." Carol said firmly. "Let the rest stay."

Erin, who had been tending to Daryl who still lay unconscious by the gate, her head covered by a dark hood, looked up and made eye contact with the other woman. Carol's fear for Daryl was clear in her troubled eyes and Erin mouthed, _"He's alive."_

A slight tightening of Carol's mouth was all the sign she gave Erin that she understood.

"You look about ready to pop there, gorgeous." Negan said approvingly, "I think we'll be needing to bring along your pretty little doctor for the delivery. Grab her on up, now would you, Dwight? She's over there with the other bowman what got hisself blowed up real good."

Erin surrendered, knowing Carol needed her more than she needed to try and fight her way out of the situation.

"So do I need to be worrying about your baby daddy coming to the rescue, blue eyes?" Negan gestured to the crowd. "I'd just as soon take care of that—nip it in the bud while I'm still here."

"I don't know who the father is." Carol said coldly, "I was held by a group that called themselves the Wolves and they all had their turn."

"Now that's truly despicable." Negan said sadly, "There is no reason for rape." he held out his hand to Carol, every bit the imitation of a proper gentleman, "Every one of my wives comes to me willingly. You'll love me once you get to know me." Then he looked at Rosita, Tara, Enid and Erin in turn, "You all will."

"Wait—I said I'll go with you—I'm a proven mother; this is my second child!" Carol protested, "You don't need the others,"

"No offense, darlin'—coz' you are a _magnificent_ woman, but you are a little long in the tooth." Negan said, walking forward with her, heading for the destroyed gates. "I need some others more on the youngish side and I am owed for _three_ men. You understand." and he patted her hand.

When they reached the opening Negan released Carol briefly to shoot several walkers who'd been attracted by all the noise of the explosions and firearms.

Carol's eyes went to Daryl lying so still on the ground, but quickly looked away so not to arouse Negan's curiosity.

His men bound and gagged the other women and pushed them along after he and Carol passed through what had once been the passage to safety and security for the people of Alexandria.

* * *

AN: Ever read a story about a big wooden horse and the city of Troy? Negan got more than he bargained for in taking these women, led by Carol, as captives.

Thanks for reading-let me know what you think if you have time!


	43. Chapter 43: I'd rather be dreaming

_The group tries to decide how to break the news about Carol to Daryl while she works to appease Negan and protect the other women he took from Alexandria._

* * *

_**I'd rather be dreaming**_

_I'd rather be dreaming than sleeping  
Just sleeping you're just as well dead  
In dreams I can fly  
In dreams I don't die  
That's why I lie here in this bed_

_Just sleeping you're just as well dead  
I'd rather be dreaming_

Songwriter: Loudon Wainwright; lyrics © BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC

* * *

"We have to tell him." Michonne said quietly, looking to the open doorway of the clinic.

Rick didn't answer her. He felt unmoored—everyone he'd started with back in Atlanta was lost to him now—dead or if alive missing, in danger or hurt. His son, his oldest friends in this fucked up new world were all gone...

"_Rick!"_ Michonne barked more vehemently, "You don't get to do this. Not this time."

Rick blinked at her.

"She's right, Rick." Morgan said, "We need you-we need a leader now more than ever."

"When Daryl wakes up we need to be ready; have a plan in place." Sasha said adamantly. "He's not going to sit still once he knows what happened with Negan."

"How is he?" Michonne asked Aaron, who along with Eric and Sasha had been doing their best to take care of the wounded from the attack. Ron and Spencer, like Daryl, were in the infirmary beds with internal injuries and possible concussions, Ron from the beating he took trying to defend Enid and Spencer from the mortar blast the tower had taken.

"Fighting the drugs." Aaron said, frowning, "If he has a concussion it's dangerous to keep him under much longer."

"He has to know he can't just go running after her—the Savior's base is a walled fortress with over a hundred men—it'd be suicide." Jesus said.

"Have you _met_ Daryl?" Michonne asked, raising her brows at the new man.

"I for one do not think we should underestimate Carol. She got us out of Terminus." Eugene said in his bland monotone. "All by herself."

"She wasn't eight and a half months pregnant at the time."Abe reminded them all; his worry for Rosita and the pain in his mangled arm doing nothing to lessen his innate cynicism.

"She's also not _by herself_ this time." Olivia said vehemently. "Rosita and Tara are all part of your original group—and Erin and Enid—they...they've _all_ been out there, they know how to survive!"

"You really think they'll be able to take Negan down from the inside?" Jesus asked, looking around the circle of people who had gathered in front of the clinic for word on Daryl.

"I would not count them out." Eugene said stubbornly, "I would not."

Olivia reached over and took his hand in hers and Eugene frowned, looking down at it, unable to process all of the feelings he was having all at once: fear for the friends that against all odds he had grown to care about, happiness at the closeness of the woman he was starting to really believe might be interested in being _more_ than friends with him, and anger at the latest group of asshole crazy people who had tried to destroy his world.

"I'll talk to Daryl." Rick said, "Tell him how things are." and then he winced, remembering saying something very similar about Andrea back at the quarry while she waited for her sister to reanimate. He didn't suppose this conversation would go any better, but he had to try.

* * *

"You'll be pleased at the medical facilities we have back at Savior City, Erin." Negan said in a friendly and somewhat eager to please tone. "Our guy is just an ass doctor, but he's made a good start."

He'd taken Erin and Carol in his car, an actual limousine, and the three of them sat in the back with one of his guards, the man called Dwight who wielded a crossbow, smaller than the one Daryl carried, but just as deadly. He and the doctor sat facing the back where Carol and Negan sat side by side.

Carol winced to look at the bowman; one whole side of his face was covered in angry red to pink to while scar tissue, looking like a napalm burn, his eye continually watering. She wondered if he'd been in Atlanta the night it had been bombed by the military in a last ditch attempt to keep the dead from completely overrunning the city. She'd heard about the state of some of the walkers Daryl and the others had encountered before Grady.

"I don't say _ass doctor_ because of any lack of competence," Negan said with a wide grin when he saw the frowns both women wore, "He's _proctologist_." and then he laughed hardily, as if the specialty in and of its self was hilarious. "Come on—you spend half you life kow-towing and kissing ass to get through how many years of higher education and med school and you decide to spend the rest looking up _real _assholes?"

As Negan continued to laugh until he had tears coming out of his eyes Erin looked with concern at Carol. Her already endangered pregnancy was being done no favors by the stress of the attack, confronting this mad man, losing the battle to keep any other women from being taken and most of all seeing Daryl hurt and being unable to go to him or know his fate. So far she saw no signs of premature labor, but she was still very worried about her friend.

"You okay?" Erin asked Carol quietly.

"Gotta be." Carol said back with a sad little smile.

Without any warning Negan put his beefy hand on Carol's knee and though her face remained impassive Erin saw her go pale.

"Pregnant chicks are so fucking sexy, don't you think, Dwight?" Negan purred.

Dwight gave his boss a sickly smile and turned to look out the car window as if he was looking for walkers or anything else that could possibly be out there.

"This woman needs special care—she's at a critical state in her pregnancy—she should be on complete bed rest not traipsing around the countryside and dealing with the likes of you." Erin said sharply, staring the big man down.

Negan leaned forward and backhanded Erin, which threw her against the seat and then he returned his hand to Carol's knee.

"_Stop."_ Carol said to both of them. Then she shocked Erin by putting her hand over top of Negan's.

"_Don't do this, Carol..."_ Erin said softly, wiping the blood off the side of her mouth from where her teeth had cut into her lower lip from the blow.

"_Is there anything you wouldn't do for us?" _Carol heard Rick's words in her head. She knew exactly what she had to do to save them, to save everyone, including the child inside her, from this new nightmare.

"I made my choice, Erin. I'm _his_ now." she looked the doctor steadily in the eye.

"I knew you were something else when I first saw you, gorgeous." Negan said approvingly, leaning close and kissing Carol on the cheek.

Only Erin saw the flicker of revulsion that Carol felt at the unwelcome intimacy. Only Erin saw the quick expression of ice cold calculation when Carol didn't resist as he turned her face to his and then let him kiss her full on the lips. He raised his hand to her nape, holding her still and deepened the kiss, not seeming to notice that she remained passive, allowing the kiss but not actively returning it.

"None of those pussies back there in Alexandria knew what to do with a woman like you, did they Carol?" Negan said, smiling smugly, basking in his superior skills of discernment. The man was so full of himself he was almost a caricature of manhood, blustering one minute, then seductive or violent the next.

Carol kept her eyes demurely downcast.

"_Whoa!_ What the fuck!" Negan pulled back, looking down at her belly between them, astonished.

At this Carol really could smile in happiness—the baby was kicking, he was alive and kicking!

"You want to keep it, don't you..." Negan said, frowning, puzzled at her joy.

"It's my baby." Carol said, holding her hands protectively over her abdomen.

"Not by choice." Negan scoffed.

"Yes, by choice. I could've ended it when I found out. I didn't." Carol said telling the plain truth. "All life is precious."

Erin's eyes narrowed to hear her quoting Morgan of all people.

"_All _life?" Negan asked, sarcastically. "Even the lives of the animals that committed such unspeakable acts against you?"

"I have come to believe that all life is precious, Mr. Negan." It was the perfect evasive answer, though she knew he wouldn't understand it as such.

"I'm not sure if that philosophy is compatible with the present state of the world, ma'am." Dwight said with quiet disapproval, looking back to the limo interior.

"We're here, sir." the limo driver called back.

"Ah-home sweet home!" Negan said jovially, taking Carol's hand in his. "You're going to love it here, my dear."

* * *

_The baby was crying._

_Daryl struggled against the pull of sleep—he'd never been so exhausted in his life—but it was his turn for the midnight feeding and the baby was crying. Sighing, he opened his eyes and saw the pillow next to him was empty. He ran his hand over its surface, still warm; Carol must've just gotten up, taking his turn so he could keep sleeping. _

_Damn it. It was __his turn__._

_Daryl rolled out of bed, scratching at his belly, surprised when he felt the gauze and tape of a wound dressing there. He frowned—his head felt fuzzy—he couldn't remember what he'd done..._

_Carol would know._

_He left the room and headed down the hall to the nursery. Why was the baby still crying?_

_As he drew closer his feeling of unease turned to one of dread. Something was wrong; something had happened that he should know about...why didn't he remember?_

_When he came to the doorway he saw Carol standing in the middle of the room, her back to him, her trench knife in one hand, staring at the crib._

"_Carol?"_

"_I can't." Carol said softly, "I know I have to, but I can't."_

_She turned to him, her breast bared for nursing, bleeding from __short but deep scratches and a small bite next to the __nipple. Tears were running down her face, all hope gone in her pale blue eyes._

_All the blood went out of Daryl's head and he swayed, stumbling forward to the crib, the cries coming from it resolving into feral growls and hungry squeals..._

* * *

Seated next to Daryl's infirmary bed, Rick looked down on the man he'd come to count on as his second. There were white gauze bandages on his bared torso from the small shrapnel wounds he'd received in the explosion. His brow was deeply furrowed, he made guttural soft moans and his eyes moved under the lids indicating REM sleep: restless dreaming sleep. All he wore was his boxers and his pale bruised chest and white legs looked incongruous compared to the dark tan of his arms and face. He looked helpless, which was a word Rick had never before associated with Daryl Dixon.

From their first encounter when the younger Dixon had barreled out of the forest cover wielding his crossbow like some later day redneck Robin Hood he had impressed Rick with his strength and will to live. A few sharp kicks to the walker who had ruined his kill, some name calling condescension at the group's weak walker killing skills, then his sharp flash of anger and squirrel tossing at the news Merle had been left behind in Atlanta had shown him as a hot head who could only be controlled by a skillfully delivered choke hold.

They'd both changed a lot since then; _lost_ a lot since then. Rick's children and his family's safety had been what had kept him going; for Daryl it was becoming part of that family.

Carol had been the one to accept him first—or maybe it had been the other way around. Something in Daryl had decided to focus all his energies on the search for Sophia, bonding him and the newly widowed woman in a way that quietly made them a unit. At the prison, the next time they'd had time to stop and breathe after the farm, everyone knew what they meant to each other was somehow different than what they felt for the others in the group.

And it had only grown with everything that had happened to them after the fall of the prison. Carol had become stronger than any of them, willing to do whatever it took to make sure their family survived. Through all of that her one constant had been Daryl's belief in her. When Rick had doubted and grown fearful of what she had become, Daryl had never wavered. Watching their reunion in the woods outside Terminus had been like fitting the last stone in an arch, the keystone. It linked and solidified the bond between them, always supportive, always honest, always _loving_.

These last months in Alexandria had finally let them become what they were always meant to be, what they might never have been if not for the end of their previous lives. They'd gotten the chance to start over, with each other. They'd created a new life.

How was he supposed to tell Daryl that life might be over before it had barely begun?

"Are they dead?" the raw throated question startled Rick out of his reverie.

Daryl was awake, looking up at him, his bloodshot eyes full of pain.

"What?" Rick asked.

"Carol n' the baby—only reason she wouldn't be here now is if she was dead or gone. Which is it?" Daryl rasped.

"She went with Negan." Rick sighed, "To keep him from taking _all_ the women and children."

"That's her." Daryl said in a kind of flat resignation. He reached up and felt the dried blood in his hair around a bandage covering the back of his head and then tried to sit up, but Rick stopped him with a hand to his chest.

"He took Erin too, so Carol would have a doctor for the baby." Rick said, hoping that would give Daryl something to hold on to.

"Who else?" Daryl said, shoving Rick back and sitting up, fighting sudden nausea.

"Daryl—you have a concussion—you're in no shape to—" Rick began.

"_I said who the fuck else?"_ Daryl snapped, standing and quicker than Rick could react, he snatched the Colt from the other man's belt and whipped around, making Aaron, who had been coming up behind him to dose his IV, hold up his hands in surrender.

"Toss it." Daryl ordered Aaron who sighed, but did as he was told, throwing the syringe aside out of reach. Daryl motioned with the gun. "Come around where I can see you."

Again Aaron complied, keeping his hands up.

With his free hand Daryl ripped the IV needle out of his arm and threw it to the floor. Blood welled at the IV site and a slow drip started to run down his tensed forearm as he turned back and aimed the gun at Rick, who didn't raise his hands.

"Who else?" Daryl asked again.

"Rosita, Tara and Enid." Rick said and then wiped his hand down his face tiredly. "Probably Carl. He's missing..."

"How long?" Daryl asked.

Rick looked at Aaron.

"He took them three hours ago—you've been out about the same—Jesus says the Saviors' compound is about an hour from here." Aaron told them, adding a bit sarcastically. "Can I put my hands down now?"

Daryl snorted and lowered the pistol, but didn't return it to Rick.

Aaron lowered his hands and exchanged a worried look with Rick.

"Anyone else dead or down other than Spencer, Ron n' me?" Daryl asked. As always he'd assessed the room immediately on waking.

"No. We were lucky." Rick said placatingly.

The narrow eyed look of disbelief Daryl gave him made Rick look away in shame.

Of course they hadn't been lucky.

"I'll take Michonne, Abe n' Gray." Daryl said, grabbing his tattered jeans off the back of the chair by the bed and pulling them on one handed. He shoved his feet in his boots, put Rick's gun in the back waistband of his pants and then lifted his leather vest and shrugged it on over his bare bruised chest. Pushing past Rick and Aaron, he made for where his bow was propped against the wall by the doorway.

"Gray and Maggie stayed at Hilltop." Rick told him, grabbing his arm as he went by, "And you're not going anywhere."

Daryl looked down at Rick's hand and then back up at his face.

"I don't take orders from you anymore." Daryl said, his voice deadly, terrifyingly calm. His face remained impassive, but the coiled tension of his entire body was like a viper about to strike.

Rick released him and Daryl headed for the door. He moved like an old man, in obvious pain, but fighting it every step of the way, holding himself stiffly erect.

"Daryl—you don't know Negan—he's a monster—what he did to your friend Glenn? That was the tip of the iceberg_._ You have no idea what he's capable of. You go after her like this and you're throwing away your life." Jesus argued vehemently as Daryl walked past him.

"She _is_ my life." Daryl said, picking up his bow and slamming open the door so he could walk through it.

* * *

_There you are-a little Eulivia for sweetness; Carol hiding in plain sight again; Daryl having his worst nightmare ever (that made me cry writing it!) and heading off on his quest to make sure it doesn't come true._

_Thanks for reading!_


	44. Chapter 44: A Different Heart Raving

_Hiding one's true motivations from those who wish to do you harm is the theme as we see Carol and Daryl fighting to get to one another in their own separate ways._

* * *

_**A Different Heart Raving**_

_See me now, this is not me  
Not like the one, I used to be.  
See me now, you would not guess  
a different heart raving in my chest.  
-"_Year of the Wolf," Motorhead

* * *

_**Savior City, aka "Sanctuary":**_

The room looked like a living room at a high end hotel, nice furniture, curtains on the high ceilinged windows, Persian rugs on the floor and games and books stacked on the floors and tables. A large flat screen television was mounted on one wall and book shelves of DVDs and Blu-Rays lined them.

Three women, ranging in age from possibly late teens or early twenties to mid-thirties, wearing nightgowns that looked like they had been picked out at men's night at Victoria's Secret, stared owl eyed at the two new comers who had just arrived with Negan, followed by two eager looking guards, one of them having been accorded the honor of carrying Lucille. The guards stayed outside the room, closing the door behind the others, standing sentinel at the harem.

"This is Sherry—she'll show you the ropes and get you settled in." Negan said in introduction, indicating the older blonde and then ordered, "Put Carol in the blue room, Sherry, she needs to get off her feet."

"The... the blue room? But that's..." the woman blanched, looking Carol up and down, noting the solicitous arm the leader of the community had around the heavily pregnant woman.

For her part Carol stood quietly with her hands resting on her abdomen, the perfect Renaissance Madonna, a small smile below her tired eyes, leaning slightly into the support Negan was providing.

"You heard me, _Sherry_." Negan's solicitous tone grew hard at the hint of hesitation on the part of the other woman.

"It'll take me a few minutes to move my things." Sherry said stiffly, keeping her eyes downcast and hurrying away before she gave voice to any further protest.

"There you go." Negan said, watching her leave with a narrow eyed grin of satisfaction.

Carol already knew he was a 'when I say jump you ask how high' kind of tin plated dictator. She was counting on it.

"Thank you for your kindness." Carol said, her meek cookie baking housewife personae firmly in place. "I wasn't sure what to expect, but this...well, it does seem like a _safe_ place to have my baby."

"Your place is here, my dear. It's in the safest part of the compound, away from outside attack and biters alike." Negan assured her, leading her over to a comfortable looking chair, but before she could take the seat, Erin spoke up.

"And the other women from our group?" Erin asked tightly, knowing she was risking his wrath, the bruise he'd inflicted on her cheek bone in the limo starting to go from red to purple already. "Are they warming your men's beds?" They hadn't seen Rosita, Tara or Enid since they'd arrived. He'd insisted on taking Carol on a tour of the medical facilities first, introducing her and Erin to their doctor and gaining his assurances that they had all the equipment and medicines needed to guarantee Carol a safe delivery.

"They haven't been assaulted if that is your concern." Negan said, looking insulted. "Sexual violence is abhorrent to me. Women are the future of this planet and I will not abide them being used by whore mongering deviants."

"So where are they?" Erin pressed.

"There is a customary cooling off period for new wives." Negan said, practically gritting his teeth at her challenge. "I waved it for you and Carol being as she is in a more fragile condition. Your other companions need to learn the rules around here before they will be fit to join you here."

"New _wives?"_ Erin asked with distaste, and then seemed about to launch into a diatribe, but Carol jumped in.

"I really am just _exhausted_. Would it be possible for me to go lie down now or is there something else you need from us?" Carol asked Negan, putting her hand on his forearm and giving it a little squeeze, looking up at him with tired soft eyes.

"Of course—what am I thinking?" the big man said, putting his hand over hers and leaning in to brush a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Amber, make some hot tea while I get Carol settled in her room." Then he turned to Erin, "I'd like you to meet with Dr. Carson to discuss the birthing plan—I've been through Lamaze and will be present as coach—but I want to be clear on any concerns you have about the delivery."

Both Carol and Erin were surprised at this new wrinkle and exchanged a quick uneasy look before Carol smiled and nodded, starting forward towards the hallway that the woman Sherry had gone down earlier.

Negan went along with her, protective, almost hovering as he gave her his arm in support as they moved towards her room.

"_What in the hell..." _Erin muttered, shaking her head after them.

"He loves babies." The young blonde, Amber said quietly as she turned on an electric teapot to heat water and begin setting up a tea tray.

"What, as _snacks_?" Erin scoffed softly, coming closer to Amber.

"He wants us all to have them—but so far none of the wives has been able to carry to term." Amber said sadly.

"You?" Erin asked, noting the woman's downcast eyes.

Amber nodded.

"How many wives are there?" Erin asked. Looking at the other woman in the room who, like Sherry seemed a bit hostile to the idea of the new ones' arrival. "How many other woman has he captured?"

"We aren't prisoners." The other woman asserted, flopping down into the chair Carol had just vacated and twirling a lock her long dark loose hair around her finger. She looked to be in her twenties, pretty in a hard sort of way, like she'd been a biker chick before the turn, a tattoo of a snake curling around her arm from wrist to bicep, her eyes darkened with black eyeliner and mascara.

"Not?" Erin asked skeptically.

"We're here because we _chose_ to be— as a wife it's better for me and mine to be protected and safe than out there with the rotters." She said giving a little shudder, "Even if I had to fuck the ugliest guy in the world it's worth it."

"_Kayla!"_ Amber tried to hush her friend, looking down the hallway to make sure Negan hadn't heard her.

"Well, he _ain't _ugly is all I'm saying!" Kayla sighed in exasperation, "He's a looker and he's got a big dick and he only comes around to me once or twice a week, so I got no complaints." She gave Amber a narrow eyed look and added ominously in a low voice, "You just better keep the rules in mind, Ambie—I seen you talkin' to that ex of yours—hubby finds out you been screwin' around on him, you know what's next."

"What's next?" Erin asked as she saw how distraught the threat made Amber, who started chewing on her thumbnail, tears forming in her big brown eyes.

Kayla sat forward and motioned Erin closer.

"You seen the bowman, Dwight?" Kayla whispered.

"The burned man." Erin nodded. The extensive scarring on the left half of his face had to have been from a fire, his eyelashes and brow were gone as well.

"Sherry was his wife." Kayla said. "When they came here they got read the rules—if you want to stay? If you want to move up the ranks? You got to give something to the community. They didn't have nothin' to give..."

"So he gave Negan his _wife_?" Erin sighed with distaste.

"It was her idea. Worked too, for a while. Dwight moved all the way up 'til he was Negan's second in command. Then he got cocky—decided he could sneak around behind the boss's back and have Sherry too." Kayla said.

At this reminder, Amber started to softly cry in earnest.

"But Negan doesn't share." Kayla continued. "They got caught and Negan dragged 'em into the courtyard, trussed Dwight up and slapped a hot iron to his face—you know, just a regular clothes iron—but holy _shit_ the screams!"

"_Oh my god..."_ Erin said, holding her hand to her mouth, appalled. The agony would have been unspeakable.

"Happened before she got here," Kayla gestured at Amber, "so she didn't see it like me, hear it..._smell_ it... If she did she'd stay away from her pretty little boyfriend Mark when hubby is gone." Kayla sneered at Amber, "Fuck up his pretty face like Dwight's—that worth it? You like ridin' his dick that much you'd risk _that_?"

"We didn't–we haven't..." Amber denied, but her guilt was evident from the fear she was showing.

"Amber! Where's the damn tea?" Sherry said, hurrying down the hall and into the room, looking worried and impatient.

Kayla gave her a 'cat that ate the cream' smile and lounged back on the chair while Amber quickly wiped her eyes and set to finishing the preparation of the tea pot.

"Looks like you're not the supreme any more, Sher." Kayla gloated.

"I do what my husband tells me to do." Sherry said evenly, holding her temper in check. "As sister-wives it's our duty to help another in need. Pregnancy means she needs the blue room."

"What a crock of shit." Kayla grunted. "You were the only one with a private room n' now you gotta move back in with the rest of us. _Carol's _the new supreme."

"She's a walker waiting to happen." Sherry said dismissively, a certain smug arrogance in her tone. Her gaze swept the room, "You see any other new mothers and babies around here?"

Kayla and Sherry shared a loaded look while Amber looked distressed.

"Amber—take the tea in to Carol, okay?" Kayla said, nodding her head at the girl.

Amber frowned but did as she was told.

"You're not pulling that shit this time, Sherry." Kayla warned in a quiet but fierce voice, standing and coming to confront the blonde.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Sherry said, a bland look of put upon innocence on her round face.

"Diane? Ellie? The _accidents_?"Kayla accused. "Amber's miscarriage?"

Sherry just stared back, not denying it.

"Stay away from Carol." Erin said, finally getting it. Sherry wasn't about to give up her standing as first wife—the supreme—to any woman, especially not one who could give Negan a child.

"Why? You two a couple?" Sherry snarked, "Couple a Lesbo bitches decided to have a kid in the middle of the Apocalypse? What'd you do? Get some poor asshole drunk enough to screw her gray haired tired old ass?"

"She was _raped_." the deep voice from behind her made Sherry's eyes go wide in fear. "And she has more grace and dignity than you could ever hope to have."

Negan continued walking until he was in front of all three women and then he turned to face them, putting his hands on his hips.

"Carol is under my protection. Anything happens to her or the baby, Sherry?" Negan leaned close to the blonde, who was trembling in fear, "Your pretty face will be having a close _personal_ relationship with _my_ bitch Lucille. Understand?"

Sherry paled, her lips went tight and she quickly shook her head yes.

"_Show me_ how _deeply_ you understand, wife." Negan ordered and his hands moved to unfasten his belt buckle.

Sherry obediently dropped to her knees.

Kayla smirked in satisfaction.

Erin looked away, sickened...

* * *

_**Alexandria**_

"I'm not going to try and stop you." Aaron said forcefully, "But I need you to listen to me."

Daryl paused in his stuffing of ammo into his back pack and stared at him, his stubborn almost irrational determination beaming out from every pore.

"How are you going to do this? What's your plan?" Aaron asked, leaning on the Armory door jam. He'd followed Daryl down here from the Clinic after silently signaling Rick to back off. He knew there was too much history between Rick, Carol and Daryl for any further arguments the ASZ leader tried to make to sway the Archer.

Daryl's shoulders slumped slightly and he closed his eyes to his friend's entreaty and winced. He felt like one big wound, bruised and broken by the blast that had tossed him against the car like so much flotsam. Adrenaline and whatever painkillers they'd pumped him full of in the infirmary were about all that was keeping him standing at this point. That and his need to get to Carol...

"_Daryl?"_ Aaron said more gently, coming close enough to touch Daryl's shoulder.

The other man opened his eyes and Aaron saw the threat of tears, saw the misery and helplessness there before the Daryl let his anger and determination fill them again and he shrugged off the hand attempting to comfort him.

"Back the fuck off." Daryl bit out and turned away to go back to his packing.

"It seems to me that infiltration is your only chance." Aaron said, canting his hand to the side, trying to get Daryl to meet his eyes again, "Make them think you want to join up, get inside, find the women and Carl and get back out, right?"

That was exactly the play Daryl had in mind. The rest of the Alexandrians were cut from the same mold as Aaron and Eric, despite what they'd been through they remained fairly clean cut in dress and manner. Daryl was still the kind who fit in with the Claimers, the Wolves—his wild side never far from the surface. He appeared to be just the sort of hard man that Negan and the Saviors recruited. He had to hope that when he'd been blown up none of them had gotten a good look at him or if they had he could play that off as _why_ he wanted in—that he didn't think that Rick could protect them anymore. That would be a harder sell, it would take longer to prove himself, but he could handle it. If Merle had taught him anything it was how to bullshit his way out into or out of any situation.

"You'll still need back-up. Someone on the outside waiting with vehicles to make sure you all make it back here...especially if anyone's...less mobile..." Aaron's voice trailed off. They both knew how fragile Carol's physical state already was and who knew what it might be by the time he was able to get her free.

"It's a suicide mission." Michonne said, coming into the room, followed by Morgan.

"Negan will suss out how you feel about Carol the second you lay eyes on her."Morgan agreed.

They'd all heard that Negan had threatened to outright kill the father of Carol's child to prevent just this sort of scenario from happening.

"Do I _look_ like a family man? Like a lady like her would lower herself to fuck an _animal _like me?" Daryl growled, his eyes narrowed to wolfish slits, menacing and feral in his dirty bloody face. "Negan will see what I want him to see."

"So what happens if you actually get _in_ there?" Michonne asked, allowing that he could be right.

"I become one of them." Daryl said, moving to finish his packing. "Do whatever it takes to make the head asshole trust me so's I can get her outa there."

"And what about the rest of them?" Morgan asked, raising an eyebrow, wondering how far Daryl was willing to go to save his woman; if he was as ruthless as he'd seen Carol be when she had to.

"_She'll save the rest of 'em!"_ Daryl bellowed, throwing down the pack and glaring at Morgan. He pointed towards the open door emphatically, the cords of his throat standing out as he yelled. "She puts _everybody_ ahead a' her, don't you get that by now? She's probably already got that prick wound around her little finger workin' on him to let them go while she stays behind."

Michonne took a step forward and raised her hand in supplication, trying to calm him, her expression one of understanding, but Daryl just lowered his arm and shook his head at her.

"I ain't gonna let her do that this time." Daryl grabbed the pack back up and zipped it up. Putting it over his shoulder he started limping towards the door. He picked up his crossbow and quiver and threw it on his other shoulder, inadvertently whacking it against his bruised back.

His three friends watched as the pain made him stumble and catch himself on the door jamb with his right hand.

"You can't ride your bike like that." Aaron said, trying another way to make him think about what he was doing.

"Then I'll walk." Daryl said without looking back, pushing off from the door and starting up the stairs.

Michonne looked at Aaron and Morgan.

"You going with him?" Michonne asked Aaron.

Aaron nodded, "Anyone else, gather weapons; meet you at the gate," and then he followed after Daryl, leaving Michonne and Morgan alone.

"We do what we need to do to get them back. That means we're probably going to kill people." Michonne said, coming to stand in front of Morgan. "You can't handle that then we don't need you."

Michonne moved past him and pulled out a gun bag. She lifted down and stowed a sniper rifle, and AK-47 and an Uzi inside it. Next she went to the bin where the pistols were stored and grabbed four, covering all their bases.

Morgan stood still and watched her, thinking of another woman, another child he hadn't been able to save. Another time his inaction had doomed the ones he cared about most in this world.

Without looking at Michonne he moved to another storage bin and silently started filling a duffle with ammo fit to the guns she had chosen and then picked out other small weapons like flash bangs and grenades, adding them to the bag.

* * *

**_Sanctuary_**

It had been cold in the undercarriage of the big truck Carl had crawled up and into, hiding himself from the Saviors. Using his belt he'd lashed himself to the big cables running from the front to the back, far away enough from the tires so he wouldn't get dragged under. His arms and legs ached, pins and needles racing up and down from holding the same position for so long, his hands and feet were numb, tears running down his face.

The truck slowed and he could hear the creak and rattle of metal—a gate—opening and closing before the vehicles all passed through it. The ground beneath him changed to gravel stained in various places with blood and oil, but then became pavement again when they passed through another opening into the inside of a warehouse space. The truck pulled into a parking place, powered down and then Carl could hear the sounds of men disembarking and others yelling greetings, chatting, and the smell of cigarette smoke and sweat.

Waiting until he couldn't hear or see any more signs of life he finally unbuckled his belt and tried to quietly drop to the ground, but his numb legs and arms wouldn't support him and he just barely missed slamming face first in to the pavement, turning his head to the side at the last second, still getting the breath knocked out of him.

"_Shit."_ Carl muttered, grunting out a little groan. He allowed himself a few seconds more to recover and then pulled his pistol from the leg holster and raised his head so he could look all around him before he crawled out from under the truck. He came up onto his knees and then into a crouch, hiding behind the wheels, his gun held up and ready.

He hoped this was the same place they'd brought Enid, Carol and the others. That had been his only thought when he'd slipped away from the rest during the chaos and hidden himself under the truck. They'd been _taken_ and _someone_ had to get them back.

Carl looked left and then stood more upright, knowing he needed to move, to find better cover.

"Unless you want a bolt through the back of your skull, put the gun down and put your hands up." a rusty drawl from behind ordered him.

Carl whipped his gun around, but a sharp blow to the side of his head from the butt end of a crossbow had him sprawling back to the floor, his gun skittering out of his hands.

"Get your hands where I can see them." Dwight ordered.

Dizzy and disoriented, he raised his hands above his head and grimaced as he looked up into the half-melted face of one of the men he'd seen at Negan's side when the Saviors had attacked Alexandria.

"Ugly ain't it?" the burned man said, keeping the bow aimed at Carl while he bent to retrieve the teen's gun and shove it in the back of his pants.

"Seen worse." Carl shrugged, squinting and making a sour face.

"Livin' in the lap of luxury in that place?" Dwight scoffed. "Safe behind those walls?"

"That isn't who I am." Carl told him, "Only been there a few months. Before that we were out there... awhile... we lost people... I've seen worse."

Dwight stared at the boy who'd been brave enough or foolhardy enough to come after the women from his group.

"She your mom? Carol?" the bowman asked, narrowing his eyes.

"One of them." Carl said, nodding. She was. Just like Michonne. "Is she okay?"

"She's safe enough for now. Negan likes her." Dwight told him and then motioned at him with the end of the bow. "Get up."

"That where you're taking me now?" Carl asked, sullen. "So he can kill me?"

"Despite appearances, kid?" Dwight said, shouldering his bow and holding out a hand to help Carl stand, "That isn't who _I_ am."

* * *

_NR often talks about how he listens to Motorhead to prepare for portraying Daryl &amp; the quote from that group's song at the beginning fits this chapter perfectly. _

_It seems Dwight has no love lost for Negan (for good reason!); is he perhaps an ally for Carl and the rest of the group? _

_Thanks for reading!_


	45. 45: In thy blush the rose was born

_Daryl tries to leave Alexandria but meets resistance at the gates. Carol and Erin are subject to more of Negan's eccentric behavior when he supervises her medical check._

"_Aura Lee,"_ written in 1861, is a Civil War era song which was popular with soldiers in the southern states. Its tune was borrowed for the Elvis Presley song "_Love me Tender."_ Its verses run through the seasons that a man is away from the woman that he loves, her constancy through the cold winter rewarded with blissful reunion in the spring when he returns. It seemed fitting for the Caryl separations, both in this story and on TWD.

* * *

_**In thy blush the rose was born **_

_In thy blush the rose was born,  
music when you spake.  
Through thine azure eyes the morn  
sparkling seemed to break.  
\- Lyrics from "Aura Lee" _ by W.W. Fosdick &amp; G.R. Poulton

* * *

"Until we can get the gate repaired I think it's the best option." Rick sighed from where he stood in front of the bus that was filling the gap in the wall created when Negan had destroyed the gate. Jesus, Abraham, Claire, Eric, Eugene and Olivia were arrayed around him surveying the damage.

"I agree—there's plenty of room—not nice houses like you have here, but the trailers are safe and dry. You'll need to bring as much food as you can though." Jesus said thoughtfully. "We can work with my people there on a rescue plan for the ones Negan has."

"All right—we'll get packed up today and leave for Hilltop first light tomorrow." Rick nodded. "For now let's shore up the barrier with more cars and double the perimeter patrols to keep any walkers away from the breach."

"What about Daryl?" Abe asked. Sidelined with his badly broken arm, the former military man's frustration at being unable to go along on any rescue mission was apparent.

"He'll get with the program." Rick said flatly. "Has to see it's a better idea when we explain it to him." Rick wasn't about to acknowledge Daryl's insubordination in front of the others.

"Well, here's your chance." Abe said, raising his free hand and pointing behind Rick.

Daryl was walking down the street, jam tight, head held high, back pack and bow over his shoulders, Rick's Colt holstered at his hip. About a half a block behind him were Aaron, Michonne and Morgan, also dressed in jackets, packing weapons and supplies to go outside the walls.

Rick shook his head angrily and strode down the street followed by Eric, Abe and Jesus. He stopped right in front of Daryl who gave him a dismissive grunt and side stepped around him to keep walking towards the gate.

"We're leaving in the morning—taking everyone to Hilltop." Rick announced, turning to call after Daryl who ignored him and continued walking, ending up by Claire, Olivia and Eugene at the gate.

Aaron stopped to greet Eric and Michonne and Morgan halted in front of Rick.

"I'm not letting him go out there alone." Aaron said to Eric, who nodded in understanding. "He runs into trouble we're not leaving him in there to die."

"It's Carl, Rick." Michonne said quietly, "And Carol..." she looked over at Abe and Eugene, "Rosita, Tara, Enid...they're _family_."

"And if Daryl can get inside and find the ones Negan took, he'll need help getting them home." Morgan added. "We're his back up. Extraction team, whatever you want to call us."

"What can four of you do against what Negan has?" Rick asked. "Jesus says Hilltop will back us—we have to be smart about this—give us the best chance to get them all back safely."

"You can't win. Even with Jesus' group you don't have the numbers." Morgan disagreed.

"There's others—other communities he takes tribute from—we can bring them in now too." Jesus said, looking at Rick, "We just needed a strong leader to rally them behind."

"We can do this—we just all need to stick together, follow my lead." Rick said persuasively.

"Fine." Aaron said, shaking his head at Rick's arrogance. "While you're off playing general, Daryl's joining the Saviors."

"Inside man?" Jesus said, rubbing his chin, impressed, "Not a bad idea..." he looked over at Daryl who was glowering at all of them. "I'd wait until you have cover of night to head out though—Negan's probably left look outs to keep track of comings and goings." He looked at the rest of the group, "There another way out of this place? Something that empties out into the woods?"

"Drainage culvert—runs under the walls—there is a locked gate at the other end of it near the back of the compound." Eugene said, making everyone look at him, dumbfounded at this news.

Daryl grabbed him by the shirt front and shoved him back up against the side of the bus. Claire stepped up to try and calm Daryl, but he ignored her quiet entreaties.

"Why the hell is this the first time we're hearing about it?" Daryl growled incredulously. Something like that would've been invaluable during the Wolves attack.

"Just found it when I was going through the zoning and infrastructure plans for this place trying to see if there was any kind of underground electric lines that ran near the new back walls by the gardens to put in more lighting." Eugene said, ducking his head, "I do apologize that it slipped my mind in light of recent horrific events."

"Reg would've known about it." Olivia said sadly, making everyone pause, reminding them how much they lost every time someone with invaluable knowledge was taken from them.

"That should work. Head out tonight after midnight... but If he's gonna pull this off they have to see Daryl as a lone wolf." Jesus advised, "I'll draw you a map—show you all a couple good rendezvous spots near their base—but then you three need to travel separately from him."

Daryl continued to hold Eugene against the bus, staring at him, seething.

"Daryl?" Aaron said, approaching the other man carefully, holding his hands out in supplication.

In his highly agitated state the Archer was unpredictable, his ability to make decisions compromised by his emotions, the opposite of the calm careful tracker he was known to be. Of all of them there, only Rick had seen him act this way before, when the ex-sheriff had left Merle chained to a roof in Atlanta and again when he'd told him about banishing Carol...

"We use the culvert—get us out of here and right into the woods."Aaron explained.

Daryl's eyes narrowed and he seemed to contemplate this, his head slowly swinging around to look at Aaron.

"Just a couple of hours Daryl—till it's full dark—then we go." Michonne said reassuringly.

"Ain't no trick?" Daryl asked Aaron, who looked touched that he was the one Daryl seemed to trust to tell him the truth.

"No Daryl, no trick." Aaron said, nodding, "We're going with your plan."

"How about we head to our house and get some dinner into you while you're waiting?" Eric volunteered, attempting an easy cheer that fell a bit flat.

Daryl stared them all down, trying to decide if he really could trust what they were telling him. The thought of Carol in the hands of such evil made his heart race and his head feel like it was going to explode if he didn't get the fuck out of here _right now_...

"Ah right." Daryl finally mumbled, releasing Eugene who almost collapsed in relief.

"_Good_." Rick said with a too bright smile, coming over to Daryl, "We can talk about the rest of the plans for—"

"You ain't invited." Daryl brushed past Rick, heading for Aaron and Eric's house, leaving the rest behind.

Aaron gave Rick a raised eyebrow look and shrugged, then he and Eric, Morgan and Michonne followed after Daryl.

"I suppose I should go." Jesus said quietly, "They'll need the intel on the Saviors I have."

Rick nodded, a look of sadness and regret darkening his face. He watched them all go down the street and then turned to the psychologist with a questioning look.

"I can talk to him, but I can't make him listen." Claire sighed, knowing what he wanted from her. Rick knew both Carol and Daryl had come to her for counseling. She was his last chance to talk Daryl out of leaving.

"Just try—s'all I ask." Rick said before turning to walk in the opposite direction from where the others had gone.

Eugene, Olivia and Abraham lowered their eyes, wondering how serious the break between Rick and Daryl was and what effect that might have on the future of the community. If someone so close to him could lose faith, what hope did Rick have of rallying others behind him?

* * *

"How are you feeling, besides gorgeous?" Negan asked Carol with a big smile as he watched Dr. Carson prepare to administer a sonogram to check on the progress of her pregnancy.

Erin was in the room as well, insisting as primary care physician she needed to be present for all tests and medical procedures. Regardless, she would never leave Carol alone with the men after what she'd witnessed in their first twenty-four hours here.

There was a veneer of civilization in the place that there hadn't been with the Wolves, but somehow that made their behavior ever worse. She'd been given a lecture on "The Rules" authored by the dictator himself, and the essence boiled down to three things:

If you wanted the Saviors' protection, you had to give yourself over to them, body, mind and soul.

Anything you had of value, (including your body, mind and soul), was currency and could be traded for said protection.

Once you traded it, it belonged to Negan and he didn't share.

Sex was a commodity, but had to be given willingly, in essence legalized prostitution: Quid pro quo. The most sought after positions for women were that of Negan's wives because they brought the most perks for both the woman and her people. Kayla, for example, had a cousin and a brother who now ranked very high in the hierarchy of the Saviors and she lived in protected comfort.

If you were unwilling to trade your body, you better have some other skill of service that had value. A trade, whether auto mechanic, seamstress, a cook or walker slayer bought you food, shelter and protection.

Justice? Crime? Stealing was punishable by maiming for the first offense, usually the loss of a hand, and death for the second. Likewise rape was considered a form of stealing and was punishable by castration and death. Murder was stealing another's life and was also punishable by death. The dead from these punishments became part of the cordon of walkers wired to the outside fences to repel others, both the living and the dead.

Carol had the best of all commodities, the thing of highest value to Negan, the child growing inside her.

That the same man capable of the callous viciousness of Glenn's murder was acting the doting husband and expectant father to Carol, told both she and Erin that he was a sociopath, able to justify _any_ action that brought him what he believed he deserved. It made him dangerous and unpredictable but at the same time, once he was set on a certain course, very easy to manipulate.

"I'm a bit tired, but that's normal." Carol responded to Negan's flattery mildly, "Thank you for asking."

Dr. Carson lifted the sheet over Carol so that her abdomen was exposed and squirted the jelly that would help the sonogram device work well onto it.

"After this if you're feeling up to it perhaps you'd like to take a walk with me in the courtyard gardens; so we can look at the flowers?" Negan said watching her face carefully, assessing her. "I'd like to have you choose the ones for the arrangements in the wives' quarters."

Carol smiled and nodded, though inwardly her stomach did a flip at his inadvertent reminder of the phrase she so associated with the terrible events at the pecan grove.

"Heart rate shot up a little there..." Carson said, sounding puzzled as he looked at the monitors, pausing before he touched her with the sonogram wand, "Nothing to be nervous about...this can't harm the baby in any way." He told her reassuringly.

"Sorry—I never had one of these with my daughter." Carol said, truthfully. She'd been young and healthy so had the bare minimum of care. Ed thought health insurance was for suckers.

"Just gonna take a look at how everything is going in there—take some measurements—okay?" Carson asked kindly.

"Okay." Carol said, taking a deep breath to relax.

"That's right—nothing's going to happen to you or that little one—_daddy's_ here." Negan said in his best soothing voice, taking Carol's hand in his and patting it.

Carol's mouth curved into a tremulous smile and she closed her eyes to hide her revulsion. She felt the instrument touch her belly and slide around, searching for the child. At 25 weeks it should be about 12-13 inches long and only weighing in at one and a half pounds or so.

"Carol–look." Erin said softly, the smile in her voice apparent.

When she did, Carol saw the other doctor marking the small fuzzy grey image on the screen for measurement.

"He's _mooning_ us." Carol said with a surprised chuckle. All they could see was the baby's back and a tiny ass pressed up against the side of the uterine wall.

Carol and Erin exchanged a smile, knowing they were each thinking the same thing—this was _so_ Daryl Dixon's baby.

"Cheeky little bastard." Negan said, sounding entranced, leaning close to stare at the screen.

As they watched, the baby somersaulted away forcing Carson to reposition the wand to look for it. When he did, this time the face was visible in profile, the body in the well-known fetal curve, little arms curled inward and up, one hand at its mouth.

"Is that a _dick_?" Negan asked, excitedly pointing at the screen.

"Guess that begs the question as to whether you _want_ to know the sex..." Carson said dryly.

Carol felt dazed, tears filling her eyes. They had a _son._.._oh Daryl...we have a son..._

"He looks like you." Negan said approvingly, grinning proudly down at Carol, surprised to see her tears. He took both her hands in his and leaned in close, speaking gently, "Don't dwell on _how_ he came to be ours—just know that I'll be a good father to him, I promise you, sweetheart."

Choking back a sob, Carol nodded, not trusting herself to speak. To hear this monster speak so possessively about the baby felt like a knife slicing off pieces of her heart.

"He's a bit small—ten and a half inches, and comes in at about a pound, but we'll get your nutrition ramped up here too—you both need to put on a few pounds." Carson told her and then put down the sonogram wand so he could raise a cloth to clean the gel off of Carol's abdomen.

"I've been telling her that for weeks." Erin agreed.

"But he's healthy? No problems?" Negan asked a bit anxiously.

"I don't see any red flag warning signs, but we'll keep a close eye on them both." Carson explained.

"I had her on complete bed rest before..." Erin told the Saviors' doctor.

"Probably wise—she's obviously stressed and though nominally healthy her age and generally run down condition including the anemia, make this a higher risk pregnancy." Carson agreed.

"I'm afraid we'll have to postpone our look at the flowers." Carol said with a wistful sigh, looking up at Negan apologetically.

"I'll bring them to you—what's your favorite?" the solicitous monster said.

Carol just shook her head. Flowers were too fragile a subject to discuss.

"There are roses to match the blush of your cheek..." the monster told her, raising his hand to brush the backs of his fingers against it softly._ "In thy blush the rose was born, music when you spake. Through thine azure eyes the morn, sparkling seemed to break."_

It took a few seconds for Carol wrap her mind around the tenderness with which he recited the words. Her eyes wide she blinked up at him and frowned slightly before she forced herself to smile in a subtle imitation of chiding pleasure at his overt flattery.

"Is it a poem?" she asked him.

"A song—_Aura Lee_—from the Civil War era for my southern belle," Negan said with a contemplative small smile. He reached up and brushed an errant curl behind her ear. "Though her hair is golden in it, I find I much prefer your silver..." and then he leaned close and kissed her, his mouth moving over hers masterfully, his big hand sliding to cup the back of her skull.

Yang and Carson's eyes met, and she was heartened to see that the doctor looked as uncomfortable as she felt. It hurt to see Carol forced to allow another man such intimacies knowing how much she loved Daryl.

"_Sunshine came along with thee and swallows in the air_," Negan breathed against her lips, quoting the song lyrics again before giving her a last kiss and then releasing her.

Carol looked up at him, somehow making him believe the tears in her eyes were ones of happiness, gritting her teeth against the gorge rising in her throat from having his mouth on hers.

"I know you—what women like you want—a place for our son to be safe." Negan said, and placed a caressing hand onto her still bared abdomen, "You can have that here, protected from men like the ones that hurt you before. I take care of my wives, Carol, I know you'll be happy here."

And then Carol did smile, because he had no idea _what_ she really was. She was no sweet spring's bushing maiden; she was death and justice and vengeance come for him, those "_swallows in the air_" carrying his soul down to hell...

* * *

In Stephen King's book The Dark Half he uses **sparrows** as "psychopomps," creatures that guide the souls of the dead to the afterlife. This idea is common in a lot of cultures, the Egyptians believed the god Anubis performed this function, Christians have St. Michael do it and for the Vikings it was the Valkyries.

Okay, Negan is even creeping _me_ out with this shit. How he is behaving here is a parallel to what Claire and Felicia were afraid Daryl was doing when he helped them with things for their baby at the time Aaron and he first found them.

And oh yes! It's a boy;-)

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think if you have time.


	46. Chapter 46: Nemo me impune lacessit

_**"Nemo me impune lacessit"**_

_The title is in Latin and translates as: "No one provokes me with impunity" _which means no one hurts me and mine and escapes without punishment. It is the motto of the **Royal Company of Archers,** the **Queen's** **Bodyguard** for Scotland.

* * *

"Where are you taking me?" the boy asked, struggling against the hold the scarred man had on him.

Dwight stopped and considered what to do. His immediate reaction had been to take the kid to the edge of the compound and toss him out to fend for himself. He was a complication and Dwight didn't need another one...not when they were so close...

How had everything gone to shit so fast? All they wanted was to find someplace _safe_. When they'd left home fleeing the dead ones, scorching the earth to clear the way, he'd thought they had it wired. Make it to the highway, take the rest of the gas in the truck and high tail it to the coast. Find a yacht and leave the fucking corpses behind on shore.

Ten miles down the road they'd been stopped by the Saviors.

Fuel was a hot commodity. The leader of the group that had found them, Wade, told them it could buy their way in to the safest place on the east coast, Negan's Sanctuary.

It had bought them eighteen months.

After that they had struggled to prove their worth. His previous career as a convenience store clerk and Sherry's as a Wal-Mart checker hadn't exactly given them Apocalypse ready skills. They had come this close to being tossed out when Sherry had decided to offer herself up to Negan as a wife.

They knew what it was like outside the walls. Dwight made regular forays out with different groups scavenging—that's how he'd found the crossbow that had become his signature weapon—and the numbers of the dead just kept increasing with every passing day. Sometimes it seemed like the whole world had died.

Negan had a talent for keeping people alive. Whatever he had been in the before world, he knew how to find the right people with the skills and talents he needed and how to motivate them to bend to his will. Like anyone who had set himself up in a position of power these days he had found a system that worked. Brutal but efficient, it was a market economy at its most base. Strict rules, brutally enforced kept it running smoothly—at least on the surface—yet as most dictators and despots always found, there was always a Resistance.

Dwight loved his wife. No matter what pledges or oaths she made to another, Sherry belonged to him. Seeing her with Negan sickened him until finally he couldn't take it anymore. He'd decided they'd take their chances out on the road and had arranged a secret meeting to tell her his plan. She had been so happy that he wanted to leave that he had let his guard down, let his feelings of longing for her take control. Their tryst had been discovered and they'd been brought to trial.

The physical agony of his punishment was nothing compared to watching his wife turn away from him and return to Negan's bed without a backward glance. He hadn't spoken to Sherry since that day.

He only stayed alive for the chance to put a bolt through the heart of the man who had taken everything from him. There was more than one of the Saviors who felt the same way he did.

"Let me go, you asshole!" Carl cursed, struggling harder.

"_Shut the fuck up!"_ Dwight hissed, "I gotta think!"

* * *

"She's strong." Michonne said to Daryl who sat in the window seat of the home he shared with the woman he loved, with his family; his upper body turned so he could stare outside, waiting for the dark.

Daryl didn't respond.

Michonne came closer and sat on the arm of the chair closest to the window.

"Don't." Daryl monotoned.

A small movement in the shadows at his feet drew the swordswoman's eyes and she realized that Sam sat on the floor leaning against Daryl's legs. The boy turned his soulful eyes up to her, his mouth set in a firm downturn.

"Daryl." Michonne leaned forward, close enough to touch him, but she didn't. She sat quietly, waiting him out. She'd seen him like this before, unable to give voice to everything he was feeling.

Most people didn't understand that about Daryl; some knew that he had learned the value of silence as a child in his dangerous home and in the woods stalking game or walkers, but few knew that sometimes his quiet was because he had too _much_ to say.

"Rick... he thinks he understands, but he doesn't." Michonne muttered, looking out the window as well, "I do. No one... _no one_ ever gave a _shit_ about you until her."

Daryl winced at that and Sam looked up at her questioningly.

"Rick doesn't know what it's like to come from a place so low you think that dying's too good for you; a place where the moments when it _doesn't_ hurt feel so wrong you welcome the fist to the gut; where you're so alone you don't fear the dead anymore, you walk _with_ them..." she looked down at Sam, "When I lost my son I blamed myself for not being there to protect him."

"You had a son?" Sam asked. He didn't know much about Michonne other than she was strong and she cared for Judith and Carl as if they were her own.

"I did." Michonne replied and Daryl shifted uneasily, still not looking at either of them.

"But he died? Like Sophia?" the boy wondered.

"Just like." Michonne nodded, but her eyes showed her puzzlement at how the boy would know about Carol's long gone daughter.

"It wasn't your fault." Sam said stoically, "That's just what happens now. The monsters come... dead ones _and_ alive." he looked up at Daryl again with trust in his eyes, "Daryl kills the monsters."

Daryl reached out and brushed a quick clumsy pat onto the boy's head and then gave his shoulder a squeeze before releasing it and returning his hand to his bow.

Sam snuggled closer to Daryl's legs, this time leaning his forehead against the side of the man's knees and closing his eyes.

Claire stood in the doorway, listening. She'd promised Rick she'd try to talk to Daryl, but she knew there was no turning him from this course of action. He could no more go with them to Hilltop than the sun could refuse to set. Michonne had it exactly right: Carol was everything to Daryl. His life revolved around her now. No one could stop him from going to her. He had to do this. If Rick didn't understand that, then the two men were farther apart than ever.

* * *

"You okay?" Erin asked, noting the bruising on Rosita's upper arms and wrists and her swollen lower lip as the doctor cleaned the blood splatter off of her face and neck.

Sitting on one of the other beds in the small room, Tara had a protective arm around Enid, both of them also injured. The younger girl's blouse was ripped down the front and all three women looked shell shocked.

"He killed them." Rosita said, sharing a disbelieving look with Tara.

"What happened?" Erin asked, but she thought she already knew. She'd been called away from Carol's room in the middle of the night after some disturbance in another part of the complex. She'd been led past the dead, but not yet reanimated bodies of three men crucified on X shaped armatures, bloody wounds at the apex of their thighs, and she'd grimaced at what was stuffed in their mouths.

"They came in after lights out—said they were tired of him getting all the young pretty...ones..." Rosita said.

"_Negan."_ Tara added. "They said he takes their women—wives, daughters, sisters—as _his_ wives in return for protection. That's true?"

Erin nodded.

"The men tried to take Enid—we fought them but they had knives and guns—they tore at her clothes while they held us down, said we were next..." Rosita said, quietly furious tears coming at the memory. She had never wanted to feel that kind of helplessness again.

"And then the door burst open and he was just _there_, bigger than life and with that bat and he hit the one that had Enid pinned on the floor and the ones holding us let us go and tried to run, but the others grabbed them at the door." Tara continued.

"They're dead." Erin said, applying antiseptic to Rosita's cuts and scrapes.

"We know." Rosita said, swallowing hard.

The men had begged Negan for mercy, for a quick end, but he had lined them up in front of the women they had tried to rape and made a show of hacking off their genitals and shoving them in their screaming mouths. He'd told them they'd be hung like the pigs they were to bleed out and sent them away. Then he spoke gently to the three women, apologizing for the brutality of both his men and his own 'necessary' actions in punishing them. He'd sent for Erin and sat with them until she'd arrived.

"That's what going to happen to us." Enid said, sounding resigned, "One way or another."

"They won't abandon us." Rosita said, angry with the girl, "They won't."

"How do you know they didn't just kill everyone in Alexandria after they took us?" Enid asked. "That's the smart thing to do. Don't leave anyone alive to come after us."

"That's not how Negan thinks. He wants people to see how powerful he is, the people he requires 'tribute' from." Erin explained. "He took us to prove that point as much as for his own personal reasons."

"To be _brood _mares." Tara snorted in derision and then sobered, "Is Carol okay? The baby?"

"He's being...protective..._fatherly._.. to her and the baby." Erin said evenly.

"And she's _letting_ him?" Enid asked, aghast. "What about D—"

"What else would you expect her to _do_?" Erin said quickly, her glare warning the girl to watch her tongue. Her eyes went to the door, where she was sure someone was listening to everything they said.

Enid took a deep breath nodding to show she understood, but frowned with sadness.

"Carol knows this is a safe place to have her baby." Erin said carefully, "She'll make sure we're safe here too." She looked at them all meaningfully. They had no way of knowing if any help was coming. All they could do was hope that they could stay alive long enough to figure a way out of here.

If that meant Carol had to accept Negan treating her like some sort of Queen and letting him think of Daryl's son as his heir, they all knew she was capable of playing the part to the hilt.

* * *

"_Hold up!" _the shouted command stopped Daryl in his tracks. He raised his hands to show he had no weapons in them. Three of the men standing in the road in front of him trained their guns on the intruder.

From where they watched, in a copse of trees 200 yards back, Aaron, Morgan and Michonne held their breaths. Jesus had told them that the Saviors had roadblocks at all the possible ways into their compound, so that would be the best place for Daryl to encounter them.

"You know how to use that bow?" the man in the bed of the pick-up truck asked Daryl, gesturing at the crossbow on his back.

"Don't carry it around for show." Daryl growled, squinting into the sun at their backs.

"You don't sound like you're from around here." the man observed.

"Came up outa Georgia... on the road from there a month now...we was heading for D.C.—heard there was still some sorta safe place up there."Daryl said, keeping it as close to the truth as he could.

"You got people?" the man asked, looking more suspicious, scanning the trees on both side of the road behind Daryl.

"Naw. Just me..._now._.." Daryl said, his face bleak, hair in his eyes. His obviously injured state, he'd been limping as he approached, and his general down demeanor showed he was a beaten, desperate man.

"You lookin' for a place?" the man asked.

"You got a camp?" Daryl asked.

"Yeah—you got anything 'sides that bow to pay your way?" the man asked, pointing at the weapon as he looked Daryl over.

"Python with three bullets, two knives and a strong desire to put down as many undead fuckers as I can find." Daryl replied stoically, signaling that he was going to lower his hands so he could pull his duster open to reveal the other weapons and then pulled the long coat back behind his hips.

He had also employed a bit of theater into his look. Recalling how freaked out everyone at the farm had been about the souvenirs he'd taken from the walkers he'd killed searching for Sophia, on the gun belt for the Colt Daryl had hung a string of rotting ears from the kills he'd made after leaving Alexandria.

Wade nodded, telling him to do it and then looked impressed with the grisly trophies.

"Hey Wade, Boss can always use more muscle." one of the other men said, giving his vote to Daryl.

"Yeah, we _are_ down a few after last night..." Wade agreed. Not that the stupid assholes going after those girls hadn't deserved what they got, but these periodic cullings of undesirable elements did cut into their numbers.

"You got a name?" Wade asked, motioning at Daryl.

"Call me Archer." Daryl said, raising his hands to hold the straps of his bow and the messenger bag crossing his chest.

"All right, Archer—I'm Wade n' that's Bernie n' Chet. Chet'll take you back to the camp to meet up with the Boss. You're not in until he says so, but I'll put in a good word for you."

"Awright." Daryl nodded, keeping the relief he felt from showing on his face.

"Word of advice?" Wade offered.

Daryl tilted his head questioningly.

"Might'a been awhile since you been around any pussy, but keep your eyes and hands to yerself around his wives. Boss don't share. We got other willin' women for that. If yer a queer, keep that shit to yourself when you talk to him, he don't approve, but we can hook you up later, got it?"

"Got it." Daryl's jaw tensed, worrying where Carol and the other women from Alexandria stood in such a fucked up place.

Wade motioned him forward and Daryl was taken to a Jeep by the man, Chet, and they drove off together, heading for the Savior's compound.

Back in the trees Aaron, Morgan and Michonne sighed.

Daryl's insane plan had taken its first step.

* * *

_The DIXON name supposedly comes from DICKSON which has its origins in the Scottish Borders. I loved the idea that the Archer protecting his Queen is a long time tradition!_

_Thanks for reading!_


	47. Chapter 47: A crack in my soul

_Daryl is brought before Negan and his people while Rick and the group from Alexandria arrive at Hilltop to find the situation is a bit different than when they were last there._

* * *

_"A crack in my soul..."  
_

_I'm well aware I'm a Danger to myself  
Are you aware I'm a danger to others?  
There's a crack in my soul  
You thought was a smile_

_Whatever doesn't kill you..._  
_Is gonna leave a scar_  
_Whatever doesn't kill you..._  
_It's gonna leave a scar_  
_Leave a scar_  
_Leave a scar_  
_Whatever doesn't kill you, it's gonna leave a scar.._.

\- "Leave a Scar" by Marilyn Manson

* * *

"Do you understand these rules as they have been explained to you?" Negan asked the new man, narrowing his eyes as he looked him up and down assessingly, the fingers of his right hand tapping on the handle of the barbed wire tipped baseball bat he had laid across his lap.

Daryl nodded and grunted, glad they'd taken his weapons from him so he could more easily ignore his almost overwhelming urge to put a bolt through the Big Fuck's head; ignore the fact that the woman seated beside the Big Fuck, the one whose thigh the asshole was casually caressing with his left hand, was Carol.

For her part Carol was playing her part to a T. Her imperious yet bored stare looked beyond him to the crowd watching the indoctrination inquisition of the new recruit as if she was gauging their reactions to him and his answers to her _husband's_ questions.

Yeah, that's how the Big Fuck had introduced her, as his god damned _wife._ Daryl inwardly seethed with fury and frustration. He had enough sense to just go with it, to try and understand how she was playing the situation, playing it to deceive her _captor_, but what he'd seen so far made him wonder if he should have even bothered coming here.

Carol looked good; better than she had in weeks if he was honest with himself. She'd put on weight, had color in her cheeks and was wearing an elegant pregnancy dress. The only thing that gave him a sliver of hope was that he recognized what looked like a flannel lap blanket covering her to her knees as _his_ shirt, the one she'd taken to wearing when he'd been held by the Wolves. It formed a thin barrier between her leg and the touch of the Big Fuck's hand.

"What do you think, my dear?" Negan asked her, as if he was used to consulting her on every decision.

"He looks capable enough." Carol said without even moving her eyes to Daryl, as if he was beneath her notice, giving a bored little sigh.

"A bit rough hewn, wouldn't you say?" Negan asked her, squeezing down on his grip on her thigh, forcing her attention to the man in front of them.

At that Carol very deliberately turned her gaze to Daryl. After a few moments she stood, lifting and setting aside the flannel and then walked down the steps from the raised dais, coming to stand before him. The guards on her shifted uneasily, raising their weapons, but Negan held them back with a gesture, waiting to see what would happen.

"Archer, is it?" Carol asked, and her left eye brow rose as she looked up at him.

"Yes ma'am." Daryl said, his expression blank, staring straight ahead, but a muscle in his left cheek right below his eye twitched.

Carol reached out with both hands and pulled aside his trench coat so she could see the belt of walker ears he wore there. With her right hand she reached in and lifted the twine, her fingers almost imperceptibly brushing against his groin as she did so.

Daryl held as still as possible.

"How many walkers have you killed?" Carol asked, staring at the grisly trophies and then looking up at him, her head tilted to the side.

Daryl's eyes darted to hers and he saw a brief flash, a crack in her icy mask before the shutters went back down. He looked away again, unable to risk causing another warming in the coldness of her beautiful blue eyes. He also saw that her healthy look was in part an illusion. Her face was carefully made up, the glow on her cheeks and lips as false as the air of regal calm she projected. She was as pale as a ghost.

"Too many to count." Daryl said in a world weary voice.

"How many people?" Carol asked, leaning in to lower the string of ears to his waist, the tips of her fingers grazing it and her baby belly oh so briefly but very deliberately bumping against his hip before she stepped back.

Daryl bit his lip to keep from smiling in relief as she continued with their set questions.

"Only them what deserved it." he said, forestalling the expected third: _"Why?"_

"If they took what you had?" Carol asked him leadingly, her eyes narrowing.

Daryl gave her a short curt nod.

"Your people?" Carol asked.

"Gone. I been alone." Daryl said. "On the road."

"So what do you have left?" Carol asked him.

"Only what you see." Daryl said. His few possessions, weapons and back pack contents were laid out on a table like exhibits in a trial.

"Everything _here_ belongs to Negan." Carol said slowly and distinctly, enunciating every syllable.

"So I've been told." Daryl said evenly, swallowing the spittle he wanted to use to show them all what he thought of _that _idea.

"_Everything._ Even me, even you." Carol said, her voice cold warning, her hands resting on her swollen abdomen. "He gives us protection; we bow to his will and give him our lives and loyalty in return. Can you live with that?"

Daryl's eyes moved to Negan who watched with the scene with rapt fascination, leaning forward in his big chair, his chin in his left hand, the elbow resting on the arm of his chair. His right hand was curled around the handle of his bat.

In response to her question, Daryl reached down and flung open the sides of his black duster, swiftly going down on his knees and then snapping the twine holding the belt of ears so he could pull it off to offer them up to her, bowing his head in submission.

"Now that was fuckin' _stylish_, Archer." Negan chuckled approvingly, sitting back and slapping his thigh in amusement. "That was some King Arthur straight up bullshit _spectacle_!" he gestured to one of Carol's guards before she could take Daryl's trophies. "Kenny—take that shit from him—she doesn't need to be handling shit like that."

The guard quickly came forward and grabbed the ears, looking a bit disgusted as he did so.

"_Sweetheart?"_ Negan called, summoning Carol back to his side and she backed away from Daryl, who remained kneeling, but watching her as she ascended the steps to resume her chair, lifting the flannel and draping it over her left arm carefully.

"Where's Dwight? Need him to set up the course—let's see how good our new man is with the bow and his knives." Negan ordered next.

Carol put her right hand on Negan's left forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"This man has been out there for awhile and he's hurt." Carol said quietly, her voice sympathetic now.

"Your tender heart tempers me." Negan murmured, looking at her adoringly, and then he leaned over and kissed her lingeringly.

Daryl jaw tightened and his nostrils flared, but he forced himself to stay calm.

"Carson—see to our knight gallant—bring him to us when you're done checking his health and make sure he's had a bath and a change of clothes... and have someone do something about all that fucking hair." Negan said, dismissing them both as he rose, shouldering his spiked club and holding out his hand to help Carol stand and lead her down the stairs and out of Daryl's sight, trailed by their guards.

* * *

"Rick, where's Carol?" Maggie asked, looking at the group that had arrived at Hilltop from Alexandria exiting the bus. Grimes was holding Judith in his arms, looking grim. Riley and Olivia followed close behind him, their eyes red and swollen from crying.

"And my sister?" Gray asked anxiously, scanning the crowd forming around the new arrivals.

"It was Negan—he took them—Carol, Enid, Erin, Rosita and Tara before we got back." Rick said, his mouth set in a downturned line.

"Oh my god—was anyone hurt?" Maggie asked.

"They blew up the gate." Riley said, "Daryl got caught in the explosion...knocked unconscious..."

Maggie's hand went to her mouth in fear.

"...but he's okay." Eric finished, stepping closer.

"Enid fought them. Apparently Abe and Eugene tried to help her and got beat down for it and their 'women' were also taken in retribution." Rick explained.

"That stupid kid." Gray muttered in anger and despair.

"He was going to take _all_ of the women but Carol stopped him; offered herself up instead." Olivia explained tearfully.

"We think Carl went after them." Abe said, as more people joined the discussion after getting off the bus.

"And Daryl." Sam said stoutly, "He'll bring them back."

"I thought Daryl was hurt." Maggie said to Rick.

"_They took Carol."_ was all Rick had to say. Everyone from Alexandria knew exactly what he meant.

"Time was you'd have gone after Carl the same way." Maggie accused, folding her arms over her chest.

"Carl's not my only child." Rick said flatly, angry at being second-guessed, holding on more tightly to his daughter. "And Aaron, Michonne and Morgan went with Daryl as back up. They're some of our best."

"Last thing we can afford is to antagonize the Saviors with some sort of half assed frontal attack." Jesus said, "Daryl's going in alone; infiltration is the best option at this point."

"The rest of us are going to get ourselves organized and form alliances with other communities against Negan," Rick explained. "Where's Gregory? We need to talk."

"Gregory is a bit tied up at the moment." Gray told them with a hard look.

Before they could ask what he meant, a solid looking woman with glasses and her medium length blonde hair pulled back into a pony tail came striding up, her black canvas messenger bag hung over her shoulder painted with a red cross on a white field.

"You have any med cases? Any wounded?" Dr. Cloyd asked, her brusque manner softening slightly when she saw Judith who ducked her head to her daddy's shoulder in shyness.

"We're good." Rick told her.

"Denise, this is Rick, the Leader of Alexandria." Maggie said by way of introduction. They hadn't met when he'd been there before. "Dr. Cloyd is one of our doctors here."

Rick registered the '_our' _and his eyes narrowed.

"He another prick like Gregory?" Denise grunted, unimpressed. "I've about had it with the patriarchy running things."

"Depends on who you're asking." Jesus said with a cheeky grin as he stepped into her sight-line and Denise gave a whoop of happy recognition and launched herself at him.

"_You're_ a sight for sore eyes, man-bun!" Denise crowed, hugging him tightly. "Carson will be glad to see your fancy ass."

"What's going on with Gregory?" Jesus asked, ignoring the digs at his hair and his romantic entanglements.

"Why don't you ask our _new_ leader?" Denise smiled, looking over at Maggie.

All of the Alexandrians' eyes turned to look at the doctor and then questioningly at Maggie.

* * *

"The way these scars are layered—some are from before the turn..." Dr. Carson stated from behind Daryl, who was sitting on the exam table, in the medical clinic doing his best to act indifferent to the intrusive questions that came along with the physical exam, extremely uncomfortable to be naked but for a towel wrapped around his hips.

He'd been sent for a hot shower and delousing before seeing the doctor and his clothes had been taken from him for cleaning. He'd asked for the vest and boots to be returned, but told them they could burn the rest for all he cared. His guards had stationed themselves outside the clinic door, which they left open in case the doctor had any trouble with him.

Grunting out an affirmative to the doctor's question about his scars, Daryl startled a bit when the cold stethoscope was pressed to his back, gripping the table with both hands and starting to sweat, willing himself not to tremble. He felt vulnerable with the man behind him and his heart rate started to climb.

"Take a deep breath in... and then out, please." Carson asked, checking the breath sounds on both sides. Coming around the front to listen to his heart, the doctor squinted with sympathy at the deep bruising he saw that extended around Daryl's torso.

Daryl tried to calm his breathing, focusing on the fact that Carol was nearby and safe; that so far his ruse seemed to be working and that the more he learned about these people the closer he was to getting her and the others out of here.

"You've been through hell, haven't you?" the doctor mused sympathetically and then dropped his voice into a low whisper, with a gesture of his hand indicating the "W" shaped scar on Daryl's forehead that had been revealed during the swipe of the thermometer gauge across its surface_. _

"_How long did the Wolves have you?" _Carson asked quietly.

"Long enough." Daryl said stoically.

"How did you escape?"

"Luck." Daryl shrugged, "They were attacked by another group and I got free in the chaos."

"That before or after you lost the rest of your people?"

"After. Got caught in one a' their traps." Daryl said, trying to keep the details to a minimum. Lying was easier if you didn't have too much to remember and it at least the core of it was truth.

"The trucks?" Carson winced sympathetically. They'd obviously had to deal with the Lupus Dei and his pack at some point.

"Yeah—no game to speak of in the woods for days." Daryl shrugged, "Got hungry, got stupid. They had the perfect bait."

"Food." Carson nodded. "Well, there's plenty of that here. We have a clean well, stockpiles of canned and dry goods, several hydroponic gardens and we send hunting parties out regularly. If you're any good with that bow that might be a good assignment for you to start. Everyone needs to contribute."

"How many people are we trying to keep fed?" Daryl asked, genuinely curious. It was a tactical question to be sure, but he wondered how successful someone like Negan had been in gathering together survivors and keeping them safe compared to what his group had done at the prison before it fell or what they had tried to do in Alexandria.

"Not sure I'm allowed to share that kind of info—guess we'll just say that's classified for now." the doctor said briskly with a little apologetic grimace.

Next he pulled a pair of shears, a black bandana and a length of leather cording and laid them on the table beside Daryl.

"Boss man says the hair's a problem—your choice—we cut it or get it off your face with one of these."

Sighing, Daryl picked up the bandana and folded it over lengthwise several times until it made a band about six inches wide. He wrapped it around his skull like a fillet so it was covering his forehead while at the same time getting his hair out of his eyes, and tied it in a knot at the back.

"Very Axl Rose...and it hides the scar too." Carson nodded in approval and then his gaze swept down to the many other marks marring Daryl's body. "Well, _one_ of them anyhow."

"Whatever doesn't kill you... is gonna leave a scar..." Daryl muttered sardonically, quoting an old Marilyn Manson song.

"True enough." the doctor chuckled in agreement, but then sobered a bit. "Got a few more questions I'm required to ask." then he winced, looking uncomfortable. "A bit more personal."

"Okay." Daryl nodded, tensing up again, his jaw going tight.

"More _mental_ health questions." Carson said, "You have old ligature scars...on your wrists and ankles...that along with the scarring on your back and your reaction to touch... the time you spent with the Wolves, losing your whole family..."

"You wanna know how I'm keeping my shit together?" Daryl asked, his voice low, tight and sarcastic. "You wanna know I ain't gonna _lose_ my shit n' slit all your throats in your sleep some night?"

Carson sighed and nodded. That was exactly what he was wondering. PTSD was a fact of life after the Turn and a few of the men and women he regularly treated, some of whom had been through much less trauma than this one, had already had breakdowns.

"Because I promised _her_," Daryl said quietly. "She was the first person to ever tell me I was worth a damn. Told me I was a _good_ man. First person I knew really...that really _loved_ me. Promised her I'd keep tryin' as long as I could."

Daryl looked up and Carson was surprised to see tears in the Archer's eyes. The doctor took that as a silent answer to the unasked question of what had happened to the woman who had loved the scarred man.

"I'm still tryin'" Daryl finished, sniffing and wiping at his eyes somewhat angrily.

"If you really are a good man, Archer?" Carson said, sounding regretful, "Then I'm not sure this is where your woman would've wanted you to end up."

Raised voices in the hallway drew both men's attention to the open door as a distressed looking Carol swept through it, followed closely by Erin, whose mouth came open in surprise to see Daryl there.

"Nah doc." Daryl said, adopting a lighter tone as he stood, holding the towel in place against his body, "I think I'm right where I need to be."

* * *

_So what happened at Hilltop to put Maggie in charge? Where are Dwight and Carl? Can Daryl and Carol keep up their charade long enough to fool Negan and engineer an escape for all of those taken from Alexandria? Stay tuned..._

_I love Holiday Break: time to write!_

_Thanks for sticking with me! Merry Christmas! _


	48. Chapter 48: The only thing necessary

_Daryl and Carol begin to play their dangerous game of cat and mouse with Negan while Carl tries to work out where his potential ally's loyalty really lies._

* * *

"The only thing necessary..."

"_The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good [people] to do nothing." –_Edmund Burke

* * *

"What's wrong?" Carson asked in a worried voice, sweeping forward to Carol's side to give her his support as she came in to the infirmary.

"I'm sure it's just Braxton-Hicks, but Erin wanted to make sure." Carol said, avoiding looking at Daryl as the doctor helped her to the other examining table.

"You should've stayed in your rooms—I would've come to you." Carson admonished her, his hands on her shoulders holding her in place briefly before he took her wrist in his and looked at his watch to check her heart rate.

"I wasn't in my rooms. I wanted to check on my friends. They were _assaulted_." Carol said with cold anger. Knowing what Enid, Rosita and Tara had already been through in their lives she was furious with Negan for not protecting them better and had let him know it. He'd been proud of the punishment he had given their would-be rapists, and she worried at how easy to agree with him on its correctness it had been. Then she'd insisted on seeing the women while he went off to another meeting and had a near fainting spell there—staged—that had her guards rushing her here.

"Is that what's got your heart racing?" Carson asked, "You know I only let you off bed rest because you promised to take it easy." He got out a blood pressure cuff and wrapped it around her upper right arm, put in his stethoscope ear pieces and began pumping the hollow rubber ball.

"She _is_." Erin told him hotly, defending Carol. "If his nibs didn't insist on parading her in front of the whole damn place every time he wanted to impress the hoi polloi—"

"She _is_ impressive." Daryl said under his breath, but loud enough to draw Erin's attention to him, which in turn pulled the other doctor's attention away from Carol.

"Shit—Archer—I forgot you were here..." Carson grimaced at the half naked man.

"Don't blame ya—you had more important things to do—if anything happens to the Queen and her pup I imagine King Shit wouldn't take it too well." Daryl drawled.

"That's putting it extremely mildly." Carson said, looking nervously at the guards hovering outside the door.

While Carson's attention was diverted, Carol let her eyes roam over Daryl hungrily, looking for any wounds, frowning at the new bruises on his torso, but relieved to see overall he seemed well.

"Are you feeling better Mr. Archer?" Carol asked with impersonal solicitousness.

"Yes Ma'am. Amazing what some soap and hot water can do." Daryl said deferentially, "Thank you for putting in a good word for me."

"It was either that or hose you down in your sleep." Carol said tartly, turning her eyes away from him and back to Carson, "You _stunk_."

"Yes, your majesty." Daryl said, smirking.

His Carol was definitely in there.

Erin gave him a quelling look, so he blanked his face before Carson looked up from his examination of Carol.

"You can go, Archer." Carson said.

"Ain't brought me no clothes yet." Daryl said, raising an eyebrow and looking down at the towel he still clutched at his waist.

"What? Oh, right, just a minute." the doctor said, frowning. He went over the door and said something to the guards. While his back was turned Erin walked by Daryl and quickly slipped him a small rolled up piece of cloth that Carol gave her, which he palmed, hiding it in his hand. Then he had a few seconds to share a love loaded gaze with Carol before Carson returned.

Raising his hand to adjust his bandanna, Daryl slipped the rolled cloth inside it, hiding it from possible detection.

"Your pressure is high and your heart rate is up; I need to check you for dilation—you haven't been spotting have you?" Carson asked Carol who nodded no, finding it hard to avoid looking at Daryl. She wanted so much to tell him that everything was fine with the baby... that they'd just needed a reason to come here now, while he was as close to alone as he'd be, before they assigned him quarters with ten other guys.

"I really do think it was just Braxton-Hicks. I don't think he's ready to make an appearance yet." Carol said, smiling, holding her hands palms down against the sides of her belly.

"_He?"_ Daryl breathed.

"He." Carol said, chancing a brief glance at Daryl.

Carson frowned and looked over at Daryl, who cleared his throat before he spoke, schooling his features to simple interest.

"His father must be pleased."

"He's over the moon." Carol said quietly, sounding anything but happy.

"We should let him know you're down here." Erin stepped in; sensing Carol was too close to showing her true feelings.

"I already sent word with your guard, he'll be here shortly." Carson said.

Just then Sherry appeared in the doorway carrying a bundle of clothing that included Daryl's vest and boots.

"Archer?" Sherry said, her gaze moving appreciatively over his tightly muscled form. She walked right up to him and then reached her free hand out as if she was going to touch his bicep, staring intently at it.

Daryl narrowed his eyes and side stepped out of her reach.

"Sherry baby." Carson cautioned her. "Big daddy wouldn't like."

"Just running an errand, Doc." Sherry pouted, continuing to stare at Daryl.

"Dwight wasn't enough for you?" Carson said bitterly. He'd had to treat the mutilated man after Negan had doled out the torturous discipline their tryst had caused.

"Get out." Carol said curtly, directing her cold imperiousness at Sherry, whose lip curled up into an ugly snarl. She shoved the bundle of garments at Daryl's chest and then turned around, sauntering away with a sashay of her hips.

"You can change in the head." Carson told Daryl, pointing at the door to the handicap accessible toilets across the room.

Daryl nodded, holding the clothes close with his left arm so he wouldn't drop his boots, still grasping the towel with his right hand. When he turned to walk away Carol gave a sympathetic gasp, knowing her audience required that she needed to react to his scars and bruises, but she was also worried by how many new ones he'd acquired since she'd seen him last.

When he reached the door, Daryl hesitated and turned back to look at Carol, Erin and Carson, briefly meeting their eyes before ducking his head in embarrassment.

"Thank you...for takin' me in... I'll do whatever I can to help you all." and then he vanished inside the smaller room.

"He really does seem like a good man." Carson said softly, almost to himself, sounding worried.

"Yes, he does," Carol agreed, equally as softly, looking at the door, making the doctor turn his head to her and narrow his eyes, but before he could comment, Negan burst into the room, full of concern.

"Darling, what's wrong?" the head of the Saviors asked, hurrying to her side and taking her hand.

"I'm fine—it's just Erin being over cautious." Carol reassured him.

"You look pale..." Negan said dubiously, tilting his head at her and then looking to the two doctors. "You sure she's okay?"

"That's what I'm trying to determine, sir. I was just about to do a full exam." Carson said deferentially.

"I'm glad I made it in time then—let's get my beloved and Junior checked out post haste!" Negan ordered the doctor. "What's the hold up?"

"The new man's still here—changing in there—" Erin nodded her head towards the bathroom.

"Archer! Get your ass out here! Now!" Negan bellowed and the door immediately came open. Daryl had the jeans and his boots on, but was still holding his vest and the t-shirt he'd been given.

"You got some miles on ya, that's for sure." Negan looked him up and down, noting the bruising, tats and scars with approval.

Looking extremely self conscious, Daryl quickly pulled on the tee and his vest, wincing a bit at the pain raising his arms caused him.

"He check out health-wise?" Negan asked Carson, "Aside from all the pretty colors?"

"He's strong and healthier than he's got a right to be after being out on the road as long as he was." the doctor told them.

"Your knight gallant is a _survivor._" Negan said fiercely, sounding proud of him, giving Carol a wink.

Carol returned a small smug smile. She wanted him to respect and value her judgments and opinions, to trust her as much as possible. Her championing of Daryl would come back later to bite him in the ass, but she didn't want him to know that.

"Find a bunk and go get something to eat; then see Dwight about the weapons demo tonight." Negan ordered. "If you're as good as I think you are, I'll have a special assignment for you."

Daryl gave Negan a deferential but semi-puzzled look, bobbing his chin as a silent yes before his eyes rose to Carol.

"Thank you again, ma'am." he said low, quick and soft before blushing and ducking his head again and striding to the outer door.

"I don't think that redneck has had much experience with the fairer sex." Negan mused and then grunted. "How's his dick?" he asked Carson.

Carson blanched, looking at Carol and Erin in quick apology before he answered. Both of them worked to keep a neutral look on their faces.

"As said, he's healthy... but from the scars... and _where_ he has scars... well, they're not all on his back... he's obviously suffered terrible _abuse_ from quite a young age..." Carson said with meaning.

"_Shit..."_ Negan said, actually sounding contrite, raising his eyebrows. "You mean...?"

"I think sex is probably the last thing on his mind." Carson said quietly, with a somber expression.

"_Mother fuck!"_ Negan exploded sympathetically. "I can't understand why _anyone_ would do shit like that to a kid; he really _is_ a survivor." Then looked at Carol and saw her lips trembling, one tear making its way down her cheek. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to upset you, my dear."

"I'd really like to just go back to my room now and lie down." Carol said, her voice sounding strained, wiping at her eyes, angry that Dr. Carson had shared such an intimate detail about his examination of Daryl.

"I can come there later to check on her—it probably is best that she returns to bed rest." Carson agreed. "Dr. Yang, will you take her up?"

"Of course." Erin said, coming to Carol's side to help her down off the table.

"I'll take her." Negan instead scooped Carol up and carried her. She put her arms around his neck and let her head rest against his chest, closing her eyes and remembering a time when Daryl had carried her this way, hoping that like they had done at the prison, they could both survive this evil place and save as many of their people as possible.

* * *

"Dwight! Where the hell have you been?" Wade called when he saw the bowman emerging from the storage container, "He's been looking for you."

"Had shit to do." Dwight said arrogantly, slamming the door shut behind him. "What does he want?"

"New man came in with the south border patrol—uses a crossbow—boss wants you to set up the test course."

"With dead ones too?" Dwight asked, mentally calculating how long it would take him to reset the course in the arena if he had to round up more roamers.

"Hell yeah—give 'em their money's worth!" Wade chuckled. "People have been getting' restless since we hit Alexandria; want to know when they can move into all those cushy homes. Need a good distraction."

"This guy any good?"

"Been out there alone—no back up must mean he's got some sac on him." Wade shrugged.

"He got a name?"

"Archer."

"Really? That's like a guy named Winchester sellin' guns." Dwight scoffed.

"So it's his nickname; didn't ask for his ID." Wade sniffed, "Whatta ya care, anyway? Just get your ass in gear and set up the course."

"Fine. Be there in ten."

Wade looked behind Dwight to the container that he'd just exited, narrowing his eyes.

"You ain't got Sherry in there again, do you?" Wade asked, "Not even _you_ are that stupid."

Dwight gave the other man a scathing look of loathing, raised his middle finger to point to the scarred side of his face and then lifted the pistol he was holding in his other hand to aim it at Wade's chest.

"Whatever." Wade said, raising his hands and backing away with a sound of derision. "You got ten minutes before I tell Negan where you are if you're not up at the arena."

Waiting until Wade was completely out of sight, Dwight yanked on the storage container door and slipped back in.

"One of your people uses a crossbow? Shaggy, redneck type?" Dwight asked Carl who sat in the back corner, eating the MRE that he'd been brought for dinner.

"Daryl." Carol nodded, looking warily hopeful. Dwight had promised to help him free his friends if they in turn would help in the overthrow of Negan. Their cooperation was based on mutual need, but was tenuous at best.

"He's callin' himself Archer."

"Someone bad called him that once—someone we _killed_." Carl said, thinking of the horror that had been Terminus; that Gareth and the rest of them had gotten what they deserved, for what they'd done to Bob, for what they _were_.

"Came in alone." Dwight said suspiciously.

That news worried Carl, wondering why Daryl would show up without anyone else from their group. Why would his dad let him come in without back up?

"Says he wants to join up—willing to go through the trials." Dwight squinted at the boy.

"He must be scouting out your operation, checking for weaknesses..." Carl temporized.

"One a' them women his?" Dwight asked shrewdly.

Carl took another bite of his meal, playing for time to think, wondering what would be the best thing to say, but Dwight took his hesitation as a yes.

"Which?" Dwight asked, "Wait let me guess... he don't sound like the type that's be into little girls n' I bet little miss pouty lips bad attitude teen's yours anyways... " he scratched his chin, thinking, "Asian Doctor woman? Nah, he don't look that smart. That leaves the butch dyke n' the fiery Latina—it's her ain't it? What's her name? _Rosita?_"

Carl neither confirmed nor denied.

"That's a nice piece of ass." Dwight nodded appreciatively. "I can see why he'd be missing that."

"They're _all _our friends—our _family_." Carl said, his jaw tight, controlling his anger, "Enid, Erin, Tara, Rosita and Carol, they're all good _people_."

"Sorry to tell you this little buddy, but your _friend_ Carol had gone over to the Dark side. She's _Negan's_ number one _wifey_ now a days." Dwight said with false sympathy. "Not that I blame her, what with a young'un comin', but you probably need to cross her off your 'good' list right now."

Carl burst into laughter.

"What? What is it?" Dwight frowned and canted his head at the boy in consternation.

"_Go Carol."_ Carl said softly, feeling more hopeful than he had since he'd arrived here.

Daryl was in the house and Carol was busy wrapping Negan around her little finger.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! More to come._


	49. Chapter 49: Wise as Serpents

_We find out how Maggie came to be leader at Hilltop; Michonne gives Morgan a little Caryl themed history lesson and Daryl faces Negan's tests, both expected and not._

* * *

_Wise as Serpents_

"_Behold I am sending you as sheep in the midst of wolves, so be wise as serpents."_ Matthew 10:16

* * *

Hilltop

"He's in there for his own protection." Maggie said, standing at the door to the trailer where Gregory was being held.

"What exactly happened, Maggie?" Claire asked. Rick had asked the psychologist to interview both Gregory and Maggie about the events that had led up to the Hilltop leader being deposed.

"He attacked her." Grayson said, angry and defensive.

"Grayson—you have work to do." Maggie said curtly, dismissively.

The young man looked ready to argue.

"I'll be fine, Gray." Maggie said more gently. "You can go."

His warm browns eyes looked troubled but Gray nodded and backed away, frowning at the door of the trailer before heading back down the track to the main square of the Hilltop complex.

"He's very protective of you." Claire observed, tilting her head at Maggie.

"He's a boy with a crush." Maggie said dismissively, but not unkindly. She sighed and watched the young man until he turned a corner and disappeared from their sight and then looked back at the other woman.

"He's not that much younger than you, Maggie." Claire said with a small smile. "And life does go on...you don't have to be alone."

"The only man I will ever love is dead, Claire." Maggie said simply, effectively ending that part of the conversation.

"Sorry to interrupt, Maggie, but have you decided on quarters for the rest of the Alexandria group?" Alex Carson, the other Hilltop doctor said as he walked up to them.

"Put the families in the two trailers at the east end—single people and couples can double up in the big house for now; and give Rick, Carl and Judith my place." Maggie ordered. "I'll bunk with Denise."

"Okay—and don't forget Jesus wants to see you talk about the trip to Kingdom." Carson reminded her.

"Give me..." Maggie looked at Claire speculatively. "...half an hour and tell him to meet me at my place."

"You got it." the doctor nodded and then went back along the same track as Gray had.

When he was out of sight Maggie finally turned to the therapist and rolled up her sleeves, showing her the fading but still livid finger shaped bruises there.

"He tried to rape me—Gregory did—and I stopped him." Maggie said, clear eyed, looking Claire straight in the eye. "I was in the Clinic, getting dressed after an exam and he came into the room. I'd heard rumors about him behaving inappropriately with some of the women here and told him to get out. Then he told me he was going to put me in my place. I had been questioning his decisions about how they'd dealt with Negan."

"How they dealt... wait... how _have_ they dealtwith Negan before?" Claire said, frowning in anger.

"They pay him off—goods and services—at regular intervals." Maggie told her. "Jesus and some of the others had wanted to strike out and look for others to make alliances with against Negan for awhile now, but Gregory always overruled it. Turns out he had a special deal with the Saviors. Gave over any information Jesus and the other scouting parties brought back."

"He betrayed his own _people_?" Claire said, her anger growing.

"And ours. That's how they knew about Alexandria." Maggie nodded. "To make sure he stayed in power."

"_That son of a bitch." _Claire said, furious, thinking of Glenn's death and of the women who had been taken, of Daryl and the others risking their lives to go after them. "We need to tell this to Rick and the rest of them."

"Let them get the kids settled, have a meal first. This is going to take a lot of planning and we need to come at it fresh." Maggie said sensibly. "We also need to hear back from Aaron's group; find out what happened with Daryl." she looked at Gregory's prison trailer door and then back to Claire. "You still want to talk to him?" she asked, meaning Gregory.

Claire though about it for a few seconds,

"You didn't kill him..." The therapist asked.

"I wanted to." Maggie admitted. "I thought about it." and then she raised her chin, "It may come to it, but right now he's still useful to us."

Claire frowned.

"Negan doesn't know Gregory isn't running things any more. He thinks he still has Hilltop in his back pocket; that the deal is still in place. He's not going to suspect that we'd go behind his back to work with the other communities. When they come for their allotment we can trot him out to show that everything's just hunky dory." Maggie said smoothly. "Let Negan think we're still under his control."

"You think Gregory will play ball?" Claire asked skeptically.

"If he wants to keep _his_, yes." Maggie said with a cold hard smile.

* * *

Hidden Observation Post: Outside Sanctuary

"So how long have you known Carol and Daryl?" Morgan asked Michonne in a low voice. They were making a light meal of the jerky and apples that were part of the supplies they'd brought from Alexandria. He passed her the canteen and she took a long swallow before answering, her gaze focused somewhere in the distance as she spoke.

"I met them and some of the others at the prison where we lived—Rick, Carl, Judith, Maggie... Glenn..." Michonne sighed, thinking too of all those they'd left behind on the march from Georgia, so many now...Andrea... Beth...

"How long had they been together before that?" Morgan continued.

"They weren't; if you mean in a _relationship_...I mean they always _had_ a relationship, but ...well, no one quite knew what it was..." Michonne shrugged. She explained that she'd been puzzled by the two of them initially. She'd felt a certain kinship with both, though for different reasons. Like Carol she was alone after losing her child and partner, but unlike her she'd initially turned from the domestic tasks and nurturing that seemed to be Carol's primary occupation at the prison when they'd met.

After Merle's death Daryl had been as bent on revenge as she was, and Michonne had enlisted him in her search for Phillip Blake. They had become friends on their travels, though never really talking about their pasts in any depth. The search was what drew them together; a mutual respect and need for justice bonded them. She knew it wouldn't last though. When the leads dried up she could sense Daryl's longing to return to the prison, to the family that he had become a part of since making the fateful decision to throw his lot in with them after Atlanta.

She knew Rick's decision to banish Carol for what she had done to try and thwart the spread of the illness would hit Daryl hardest. They'd all seen the closeness growing between the two, yet it wasn't until she'd seen Daryl run full tilt through the treacherous woods around Terminus and almost knock her down with the intensity of his embrace that she'd really understood what they meant to one another. Daryl loved all of his make shift family and would lay down his life for them—he'd proved that with the Claimers—but Daryl was _in_ _love with_ Carol. And that was a first for him.

"Man will do just about anything for a love like that... and his child..." Morgan nodded, taking a bite of one of the small apples and chewing thoughtfully before speaking again. "Risk all he has. Risk his life...risk _other _people's lives..."

"You don't have to be here." Michonne said, her basilisk stare cold as she turned to look at him.

"But I am." Morgan said, finishing the last of the small apple, core and all. "Couldn't save my own wife and son; figure it'll help my karma if I can help Daryl save his."

At that Michonne nodded, her stare thawing a bit.

A noise in the brush near them had them both standing and reaching for their weapons. Aaron appeared, a bit startled when confronted with the katana and bow staff armed warriors. He raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Just don't punch me in the face, okay?" Aaron joked at Michonne, alluding to what Rick had done the first time they'd met.

"You see anything?" Michonne asked, re-sheathing her sword as Morgan leaned on his staff and offered Aaron the canteen.

"They most all seemed to be moving to the arena area from what I could tell." He said and then took the water from Morgan for a long drink.

"No signal from Daryl yet?" Morgan asked.

Aaron lowered the canteen, shaking his head no as he swallowed.

"I just hope he's not the entertainment in any games like he told me that Governor ran down there in Georgia..." Aaron said darkly, sending a silent prayer to a God he didn't quite still believe in that their friends were still alive and finding a way out of the Savior's fortress.

* * *

Sanctuary: Savior's Compound

Daryl was glad of the black bandana around his forehead as he felt the sweat dripping down the curve of his spine under his collar from his nape. He blinked, squinted and then carefully sighted the small target at the outer range of his bow's capabilities.

The walker was a fairly recent kill; a still very recognizably human male, dressed in an old graying undershirt with the word "wolf" crudely printed on it. It also wore blood stained pants, the crotch brown with dried gore. It bobbed and weaved, trying to grab at a shorn lamb that was staked to the ground on a twenty foot lead fastened to a collar around its skinny neck. The animal cried pitifully, knowing it was in danger, its _baa _bleat sounding almost like a human plea for help.

"Take it out, Archer!" Negan shouted, "Protect the herd!"

The whine of release and sharp thunk of the bolt finding its mark seemed almost simultaneous. The walker's head snapped back and it fell, crumpling to the ground, falling on top of the rope holding the lamb, making the animal panic, wild-eyed, pulling back so hard on the collar it was choking itself.

Daryl quickly reloaded and the second bolt severed the rope, freeing the small white creature, which stumbled back from the walker's body and then stood panting with its head down.

That he had hit the first target, a moving walker's head, from that distance with such accuracy had been excellent shooting. The second shot, slicing through the less than an inch thick rope without harming the lamb had been miraculous. Even Negan sat with his mouth open.

"Are we done here?" Daryl asked, his voice calm, but letting his exhaustion show in how slowly he moved, lowering his bow and looking up at the leader of the Saviors. He tried not to frown again at the fact that the seat next to Negan had remained empty throughout his long skill demonstration, wondering why Carol had not appeared to witness it.

Negan stood and summoned him forward. When Daryl stood directly in front of him, the leader dismissed the crowd but asked the archer to join him, Dr. Carson and his guards. Daryl had to hand over his bow, which he tried to do with equanimity, but it rankled to be unarmed amongst these people.

Following after his host, Daryl was taken through a maze of corridors deep into the center of the complex. When he reached an ornate door he was ushered inside and felt like he'd fallen into some whacked out version of a James Bond film bachelor pad. A huge round bed covered in red velvet dominated the room. Expensive looking leather furniture was grouped in conversation areas around the suite, a giant screen TV was hung on one wall and there was an honest to god damned mirrored _ceiling_.

Negan dismissed the guards, telling them to wait outside and then went to the chrome and glass bar and poured himself a drink after carefully laying Lucille on the bar. He motioned to Daryl to sit on one of the leather sofas and Carson sat in a chair opposite. The two men exchanged a look, Daryl's curious, but all the doctor could do was to try and give him a reassuring small smile.

"What can I get for you, Archer?" Negan asked affably.

"I'm fine." Daryl said, wanting to keep his wits about him.

"Man won't drink with me, makes me feel like I been in for the rimming but not the fucking." Negan said a bit peevishly and then looked at Daryl with a half-assed knowing grin, "You know what that's like, don't you?"

Daryl's left eye ticked and his breathing rate kicked up. His eyes briefly went back to Carson's in accusation of the betrayal of his confidence, but then he looked up to Negan with a cold stare.

"No. I always got fucked." Daryl monotoned back.

"That why you learned to shoot so well?" Negan asked, taking a long swallow of his Scotch. "To take your revenge?" He came around the bar carrying the bottle and three glasses. Setting them down and filling them he motioned to Carson and Daryl to each take one.

"_Did_ you kill him?" Negan asked, his gaze looking almost titillated at the thought. "The fucker who fucked you?"

"What do you want from me?" Daryl asked, refusing to respond to his baiting nor take the drink.

"You know who made the best harem guards for the Sheiks, Archer? _Eunuchs_—no balls, no interest in the women they guarded, but _fierce_ warriors." he raised his glass to Daryl in salute. "From what Carson tells me your dick's on the blink because of your unfortunate past, but you shoot like a demon, so I think I got me an excellent new guard for my wives."

Daryl's eyes went wide and he frowned at the other two men, unsure he'd heard correctly.

"My wives are the primest pussy in the place. I need someone I can trust to watch over them, protect them and _not_ to try and fuck them." Negan explained. "You've seen Dwight? That's what I'm forced to do when someone fucks one of my wives. I _hate_ doing it, but we have to have rules, order! Am I right?"

"I just got here—you don't know anything about me—and you trust me with—" Daryl shook his head, unwilling to believe it could be so easy to get so close to Carol and the other women.

"_Are_ you screwed up about fucking?" Negan asked, squinting meaningfully.

Daryl closed his eyes and dropped his head, thinking of the panic attack he'd had the last time he and Carol had tried to make love and then slowly nodded and muttered a soft honest _"Yeah."_

"Carol saw something in you and Carson here says you're a good man. That's two of the people here whose opinions I value most. You passed the weapons tests with flying colors—that makes you my man for the job—what do you say?" Negan held out the glass again.

This time after staring at it for a few seconds Daryl took it and drank deep, needing the burn to keep his utter relief from showing. _He was in_, not just to the compound, but to the inner circle, right where he needed to be; right next to Carol.

There was a knock at the door and Negan bade the guards to let whoever it was, obviously expected, enter. The ripe blonde woman who had brought him his clothes earlier and another, young and pretty in a hard way, with dark hair and a tattoo of a snake twining around her wrist came into the room. They wore short robes and at Negan's gesture discarded them, standing before the three men nude.

Their bodies were well made, the brunette tanned all over and curvier, her breasts firm but heavy, the serpent winding up around all the way to her bicep. The blonde was thin, ribs visible, and her too round breasts owed more to silicon than nature, but they gave her an hour glass figure that her "husband" obviously appreciated.

Negan came and stood between the two of them, putting one meaty hand on Sherry's ass, hauling her closer and the other palmed Kayla's right breast, rolling the nipple until it peaked and she gasped.

"One final test, Archer." Negan said affably, "This here is Sherry and Kayla, two of my beloved wives—we're going to be having a conjugal visit here while you watch. Dr. Carson's going to let me know if your cock takes notice of our little party or not."

"It's like live porn," Sherry giggled, putting her index finger between her teeth and biting it as she tilted her head at Daryl seductively, thrusting her chest out.

"It _is_ live porn." Kayla said, rolling her eyes. The look she gave Daryl was more world weary and he found himself sickened, feeling sorry for her, for both of the women, required to perform sexual acts for such a reason.

"Is his cock really broken?" Sherry asked, pouting at Daryl and then looking up at Negan.

"That's what we're going to see." Negan nodded, caressing her ass.

"Then we need to _see _it, don't we?" Sherry asked, sounding innocent but there was an underlying tone of nastiness to the question. She hadn't liked being ordered out of the room and away from Archer by Carol earlier in the day.

Negan frowned thoughtfully and then motioned Daryl to stand.

Daryl narrowed his eyes at the woman, his jaw set. She had no idea of the humiliation and abuse he'd suffered at the hands of the Wolves. Even her best blow job wouldn't get a rise out of him. The trust and love he had with Carol was the only thing that gave him any sort of sexual response at all and only to _her_. Breathing heavily, feeling lightheaded, he none the less stood and reached for his belt buckle with trembling hands, swaying slightly.

"Archer... stop..." Dr. Carson said, quickly standing and then turned to Negan. "This isn't necessary—he hasn't responded to the women's bodies—that's fear, not desire on his face. He's having a _panic_ attack, sir."

The dark haired woman, Kayla, made a sympathetic noise and looked up at Negan with tears in her eyes, but Sherry snorted in disbelief.

Negan smacked Sherry on the butt and told both women to go get in bed, releasing his hold on them. He stalked over to Daryl, suddenly grabbing his chin and forcing his head up so he could look in his eyes. With his other hand he cupped Daryl's crotch, slowly taking hold of his cock and Daryl shuddered and fought his every impulse to fight back, biting the inside of his lip so hard he tasted blood, furious tears filling his eyes.

Just as suddenly Negan leaned close and gently said something totally unexpected to Daryl, _"You poor bastard."_ and released him.

Then he motioned at both Carson and Daryl.

"I want you watching Carol and the baby twenty-four seven. Anything happens to them; you get to meet Lucille more formally. Got it?"

Both men nodded.

"Get out. I need to fuck my wives now." Negan said curtly and started quickly undressing, walking back to his big round bed.

Carson ushered Daryl out of the room, closing the door behind them. When they turned the corner, out of sight of the guards, he stopped and looked back at Daryl who was leaning against the wall, working at getting his breathing under control.

"You okay?" he asked kindly, knowing being touched like that had to have been horrible for the man.

"Gotta be." Daryl said, taking a deep cleansing breath and wiping at the wetness in his eyes angrily.

"I'd say I'm sorry, but..." he shrugged, "He is what he is..."

"Why do you stay?" Daryl asked, sensing a possible ally in the doctor.

"I've got nowhere else to go." Carson admitted. "I had a brother, Alex... he was visiting friends in D.C. when it all went down—I came here from New York looking for him. Never found him. Negan found me, saved my life."

"Yeah, I had a brother too." Daryl said, but didn't elaborate when Carson thought he'd say more.

"We need to get you to Carol." Carson reminded him, "Boss's orders."

Daryl nodded and let the doctor lead the way. As soon as Carson turned away to start forward, the side of Daryl's mouth turned up with just a hint of a relieved smile.

* * *

_The two doctor Carsons, one at Hilltop and one at Sanctuary, is straight from the comics, (though I changed the first name of Harlan to Alex.) Lecherous rapey Gregory is pretty much the same too._

_Hopefully Daryl can use his new job to his best advantage without giving himself and Carol away._

_Thanks for reading! Thank you for the kind reviews, I really appreciate hearing from people!  
_

_DD1_


	50. Chapter 50: Another little piece of my

_Everyone gets a bit more information to help their plans to take down Negan come together, but it's not all good news._

* * *

"_Another little piece of my heart..."  
__  
Oh, come on, come on, come on, come on  
Didn't I make you feel like you were the only man? Yeah.  
An' didn't I give you nearly everything that a woman possibly can?  
Honey, you know I did  
And, and each time I tell myself that I, well, I think I've had enough  
But I'm gonna, gonna show you baby, that a woman can be tough._

_I want you to come on, come on, come on, come on and take it  
Take another little piece of my heart now, baby  
Oh, oh, break it  
Break another little bit of my heart now, darling, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah  
Oh, oh, have a  
Have another little piece of my heart now, baby  
Well you know you got it, if it makes you feel good  
Oh, yes indeed...  
_-Janis Joplin - _Piece of My Heart_

* * *

Sanctuary: Savior's Compound

When she felt the hand on her arm Carol grabbed the scalpel she had stolen from the Clinic from under her pillow and hissed out a warning, poised to use it on whoever had crept into her bedroom. A strong hand slid down and grasped her wrist, keeping her from using the small sharp weapon and she struggled against it.

"Get off!" she hissed.

"_Shhh—it's me."_

Carol immediately recognized the husky whisper, blinking in the darkened room to make out the form of the man kneeling beside her.

"_What are you doing here?"_ she asked quietly, afraid for him, _"If Negan finds out—"_

"_You sent me a note." _Daryl whispered with a slow grin, holding out the piece of cloth on which she'd written her short message.

"_The note said it was too dangerous for you to be here and to go home!"_ Carol said, frustrated with him for putting himself in such danger, "_Negan will kill you if he—"_

"_Negan just made me your new body guard."_ Daryl interrupted her.

Carol looked at him in disbelief and then couldn't help herself; laughing softly, she flung her arms around him in a crushing embrace, burying her face in the hollow between his neck and shoulder as his arms came around her.

"_Oh my god...I don't know who is more insane, you or him..."_ Carol finally sighed, resting the side of her face against his shoulder.

"I'm his limp dick harem eunuch." Daryl explained and when she looked shocked, he elaborated. "Carson spilled the beans on my physical results."

For once his haunted past had actually worked in their favor.

"He prides himself on being a quick judge of character." Carol said, pursing her lips in distaste. "He took one look at me and made me his number one wife."

"_He didn't..."_ Daryl began, a look of pain crossing his face as he held her close, his guilt at not being able to keep her from being taken by Negan and fear for what he may have done to her already apparent_, "He hasn't ... hurt you? You're okay?"_

"_I'm okay." _she responded, unsure of how to answer his first question. Every time Negan gently but possessively touched her he _hurt_ her; every time he claimed the child she carried as his own she wanted to kill him; every time he kissed her she imagined the blood spurting hot against her hands as she cut his throat...

Carol leaned back and took both of his hands and placed them on her belly.

"_We're_ okay." she told him and smiled when they both felt the baby move, kicking or punching up into Daryl's grip.

The series of emotions that moved across Daryl's face were heartbreaking for Carol to see; relief, amazement, joy, abject terror and fear for them all and then just pure love. She lifted her hands to his face, pulling him in for a comforting, reassuring kiss.

Daryl clung to her like a drowning man; his strong arms her sanctuary as he wrapped them around her and deepened the kiss. The passion that flared between them took them both by surprise.

"_You can't stay."_ Carol breathed regretfully, resting her forehead against his after reluctantly breaking the kiss.

"I know." Daryl said, sounding resigned, his right hand rubbing soothingly up and down her back, "I was only supposed to check that you were still resting."

"After this? _Unlikely..."_ Carol drawled and sighed, turning her head and rubbing her cheek against his jaw in a cat-like gesture.

Daryl gave a little snort that after everything she could still tease him. He turned his face so he could give her another brief kiss and then moved his hands up to cup her face, focusing her attention on him.

"We'll get outa here." he promised, his voice low and sincere, _"All_ of us."

"Have you seen the others?" she asked him, "Besides Erin?"

"No—are they all together?" Daryl asked, releasing her face and dropping his hands, "Carl too?"

"_Carl?"_ Carol looked stricken, "He took Carl too? When?"

"We think he hid in one of their trucks—he was missing after you all left." Daryl told her.

"I haven't seen him," Carol said, shaking her head in dismay, trying to recalculate her plans to factor in both Daryl and Carl. Getting all of them out of Sanctuary had just become that much harder...

"He could be in hiding, or maybe dropped off the truck before they came in here—maybe he's on the outside waiting with Aaron, Michonne and Morgan." Daryl said hopefully.

"And Rick?" Carol asked, she couldn't imagine Rick not coming after his son.

"No—he took everyone else to Hilltop." Daryl said.

"They left Alexandria?" Carol frowned in surprise, trying to understand why they'd leave their home. "They couldn't fix the gate?"

"No time—didn't know when Negan would come back." Daryl shook his head no. "Safer to head for a secure site."

A soft knock on the door, three distinct taps interrupted them.

"Gotta go—that's Erin's signal—someone's comin'." Daryl said, starting to rise, but Carol stopped him with her hand grasping his forearm.

"_I have to..."_ she paused, searching his face for his understanding of what she had to let Negan do, the liberties she had been forced to allow the other man: the kisses and touches.

"I know." Daryl sighed. "I don't like it...no...I _hate_ it... but I _know_."

"_And you know I love you."_ Carol said fiercely, pulling him close and hugging him one last time.

"I know." Daryl said, kissing her forehead before pulling away. He looked down at her sleepwear and gave her a corner of the mouth smile, "Nice shirt."

When he slipped out her door, Carol pulled Daryl's flannel shirt tighter around her.

* * *

"We need a plan." Carl said stubbornly, refusing the soup that Dwight had brought him. Sitting in the storage container all day he'd been so bored he'd actually been reading the stack of old magazines that had been stored there. The _Playboys_ hidden at the bottom of the pile of _Popular Mechanics_ had made him blush in adolescent interest and then sort of feel sorry for the girls... the _women_ inside. The women he knew were strong, good fighters, valued for their contributions to the group, not how decorative or sexual they were.

"You need to eat first." the bowman ordered, "Pass out from hunger you're no good to anybody."

"Are my friends okay?" Carl persisted.

"Your boy's got himself a new job watching over your mom." Dwight shoved the thermos of soup at the boy again and this time Carl was too stunned to refuse it.

"_What?"_

"Personal bodyguard to the Queen, though if you ask me she's got more than enough brass to take care of herself." Dwight said, huffing out an impressed breath. Digging in his jacket pocket he pulled out a spoon and handed that to Carl as well.

"Carol's smart—she'll have a way for us to take out Negan." Carl agreed, handing him a thinly folded piece of paper and then setting the spoon down on his thigh and pulling the cup off the thermos so he could unscrew the lid. "You need to tell her I'm here and give her this so I can see what she wants me to do."

"You got a lot of faith in your friends, don't you?" Dwight asked, watching the kid pour out the rabbit and vegetable stew into the cup while he stuffed the note into his dirty vest pocket.

"You got any crackers?" was all Carl said in reply.

Dwight snorted and tossed him a baggie of matzo, the thin unleavened bread made in the Sanctuary kitchens for the patrols to carry along with jerky as supplies.

"Tell her it's from the kid in the hat." Carl said, pointing at the note, talking around the big bite of stew in his mouth.

* * *

Hilltop

"You think that he's crazy then?" Abraham asked, his cheek bulging with a wad of chewing tobacco he'd traded some apples for, standing leaning against the wall of the room in the big house where they had gathered for the meeting. He, Eugene, Claire, Eric, Heath, Rick, both Hilltop doctors, Maggie and Jesus sat or stood around the meeting room, used as a classroom during the day.

"Not crazy—_eccentric_." Jesus said, looking a bit uncomfortable. He'd known the leader of the other nearby settlement for a couple of years. A formidable fighter, he was also way over the top in the way he ran things there, like a royal court.

"You said he keeps a fucking _tiger_ as a pet?" Rick asked, leaning forward in his chair, "Sounds pretty damned crazy to me."

"Kingdom's our best bet as an ally." Maggie argued. "With their numbers we'll have almost as many fighters as Negan does."

"Ezekiel is willing to meet with us, Rick." Jesus said, looking at the other man "We need this."

"It has to be on his turf? They can't come here?" Rick asked, worried about having more of their best warriors off on another risky mission. He keenly felt the absence of Daryl, Carol and Michonne. Even with his pacifist tendencies, Morgan was a good man to have in a throw down.

"How about a neutral site?" Claire asked, "That's traditional for negotiations."

"Ezekiel doesn't like to leave his people." Jesus told them. "It's always been just me going there to talk with him."

"We have other people still out there." Eric reminded them impatiently, "Whatever we do, we have to consider them." He'd tried to keep silent about his fears, knowing he'd likely just be seen as a worried spouse, but almost a quarter of their number were either being held by or waiting near Negan's compound, in constant danger.

"I'm sorry, but this is bigger than that, Eric." Maggie said. "If we're going to have a snowball's chance in hell of taking Negan out, it's going to have to be a coordinated attack, and soon, before he realizes what we're doing."

"How do you know he's doesn't already know?" Heath asked Maggie, his face coldly skeptical. "You already have one man in the bastard's pocket—you trust all your people?"

"The plan stays in this room." Maggie said quickly. "No one else knows. As far as they're concerned, Jesus is back to reconnaissance and recruiting. Rick and a couple of his people make a trip to start work surveying the damage so they can start repairing the gates at Alexandria."

"As cover." Rick nodded. "Kingdom's about the same distance."

"In the opposite direction," Abe said dryly before spitting out a dark stream of chew into the Sweetwater beer can he held. Denise made a disgusted face at him and Abe grunted and winked at her.

"Jesus will be my proxy—I can't leave in case Negan shows up here—I've got to stick close to Gregory." Maggie said. "Let Jesus arrange the meet with Ezekiel and then we go from there."

"We'll need tactical info on Sanctuary." Abraham sighed, including Eugene in his gaze and then looking at Jesus. "Weaknesses, strengths..."

"I'll get you all the stuff I have." Jesus agreed. "Aaron and his bunch will have even more—we need to hook up with them too."

"We need to come up with a way to take the Saviors out for good." Maggie said. "We've seen the pure evil that leaders like Negan can do..." she'd lost her father to Blake, her sister to Dawn at Grady and Glenn to this latest monster. It was no wonder Maggie was out for blood.

"But we're going to get our people out of there before we do anything_, right_?" Eugene asked, speaking for the first time. Tara and Rosita were the best friends he'd ever had, Enid and Carl were just kids, and then there were Erin and Daryl and Carol and their baby—Maggie couldn't be suggesting they just let them all _die_?

Maggie and Rick's eyes met. The burden of decision would fall on them. God help them if they made the wrong one.

* * *

Sanctuary: Savior's Compound

"She's beautiful isn't she?" Negan asked softly from behind him, coming to a stop beside Daryl, standing in the doorway of Carol's room. Both of their attention was focused on Carol who was sitting up in bed, propped up on several pillows, waiting patiently while Dr. Carson took her pulse.

Daryl gave a little noncommittal shrug of one shoulder and tightened his grip on his crossbow.

"They say pregnant women glow—'n all those extra hormones give 'em a soft sweet taste—taking her mouth is like sippin' fine wine..." Negan said with satisfaction, bringing his fingers to his lips, "Ambrosia."

Daryl felt himself go cold, the hairs on his nape rising.

"And their big titties... they got that extra little bounce when you're inside of them too." the other man chuckled conspiratorially, giving Daryl a nudge, "Gotta fuck 'em from behind when they're this far along though..." he mused and sighed.

At that Daryl jerked his head to Negan, his eyes angry slits.

"Oh, no, not her." Negan frowned a bit petulantly, "Strict orders from Carson. She's havin' trouble holding on to this one. So I'm letting her be for the duration." he sounded extremely proud of himself that he wasn't going to let his lusts possibly kill a woman and child.

Daryl nodded, afraid to speak for fear he'd be unable to stop himself from eviscerating the other man.

"If she survives the delivery though, I'll put another one in there soon as I can." he chuckled again, "She's gorgeous and fertile and tough 'n I bet she's a _spectacular_ fuck..."

With that parting comment the ruler of Sanctuary went to the bed to act the solicitous spouse, holding Carol's hand and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. Playing her part, she smiled at him benignly, but as soon as Negan turned away to speak to Carson she let her eyes rise to meet Daryl's. The fury she saw banked there made her give him a little frown of warning.

Daryl forced his face into a blank mask, feeling a piece of his heart break at what they were both being forced to do to survive.

* * *

_Negan's plans for Carol are the same as for any of his wives, but she's impressed him enough that he's willing to bide his time, unknowingly giving her would be rescuers more time to plan. Now if Daryl can just keep from losing his shit on Negan-we know he's a patient tracker and hunter-but with Carol and their son's lives on the line that's asking a lot of him._

_Yay Ezekiel-he's a fun character in the comics, and yes, he really does have a pet tiger!_

_Thanks for reading!_


	51. Chapter 51: The Teind

_The Teind _

Negan places a demand on Carol that shows his true colors and Jesus introduces Rick and Michonne to the leader the "Kingdom," Ezekiel, with surprising consequences.

_Notes:  
__Teind:__ Old Scots lowland term for a tribute due to be paid by the fairies to the devil every seven years to allow them to keep their realm; in effect a tithe to hell. Found in the story of __Tam Lin__as well as in the __Ballad of__Thomas the Rhymer__._

_Quid pro quo __("something for something" in Latin) means an exchange of goods or services, where one transfer is contingent upon the other._

* * *

The Kingdom

It really was a fucking tiger.

Rick shook his head and shared a look with Jesus, who suppressed his smile and moved quickly forward to drop to one knee at the foot of the raised dais where the imposing ruler of the Kingdom settlement sat. Heath, Michonne and Rick stayed further back at the front edge of the crowd, waiting to be summoned.

Their trip to negotiate with Ezekiel had first taken them to the post where Aaron, Morgan and Michonne watched the activities at Sanctuary, waiting for some sign from Daryl or the others. Rick had found it hard to leave, knowing that Carl and his friends were somewhere inside the huge complex, but he also knew they couldn't hope to take down Negan without help.

Michonne had decided to accompany them, leaving Grayson, who had come with them from Hilltop, behind, mindful that it was his sister who was being held. Rick was glad to know the katana master had his back, just as she had since they'd left the prison. He still wasn't as sure of Jesus as he would have liked, and appreciated the presence of the woman who he counted as one of his best friends.

For her part Michonne had grown frustrated with the waiting game outside of Sanctuary and welcomed the chance to meet another group trying to bring some civilization back to this world. They'd been greeted at the borders of the land Ezekiel controlled by riders geared up in light armor, like that Glenn had found at the prison, and escorted to the small walled city at the center of his territory.

Jesus brought Hilltop's greetings from Maggie, explaining the leadership transition in careful terms, but Ezekiel gave a big bellied laugh, asking if Gregory still had his balls, and saying he couldn't wait to meet the woman who finally put him in his place.

The warm laugh had drawn Michonne's eyes to the African American man on the throne and she couldn't help admiring the front he presented. His graying hair fell in a thick mane of dreadlocks at least twice as long as her own, pulled back from his face and tumbling over his broad shoulders and bare barrel chest. He wore a purple velvet robe and what looked like black silk tuxedo pants and sandals. In his right hand he held a long handled mace like the war clubs used by the warriors of some Native American tribes and in his left he held the heavy chain that was attached to the thick collar that restrained the full grown thousand pound tiger that was lying placidly at his feet.

"And you bring me such interesting guests, Monroe!" Ezekiel said, casting an eye to Michonne especially.

"From Alexandria, m'lord." Jesus told him, "May I present them to you?"

Ezekiel beckoned them forward with his right hand, leaning slightly forward.

"Rick Grimes, leader of the Alexandrian community." he introduced Rick first.

Unsure of the court protocol he looked down at Monroe who indicated that he should kneel beside him. When Rick hesitated the tiger made a chuffing noise and then yawned, exposing its teeth and long curling tongue.

Rick knelt.

"Welcome friend Grimes." Ezekiel boomed, "I look forward to our negotiations." then he turned his attention to Michonne. "And this charming creature?"

"Michonne..." Jesus said, and she came forward, side-eying the tiger, wishing she hadn't had to hand over her katana when they came into the throne room.

"Just the one name, like Sheena?" Ezekiel asked with a grin.

"A tiger? Really?" Michonne returned with smooth skepticism, ignoring his question and looking at the man, not the cat.

"Shiva, meet the Lady Michonne," the beast's master instructed and the cat turned a lazy eye to her and licked its chops.

"I'm Heath, if anybody cares..." the final member of the group said in a bored tone, standing behind the others with his arms crossed.

"Friend Heath, welcome!" Ezekiel boomed in his melodious voice, motioning the final member of the party forward.

Heath grudgingly moved closer to stand next to Michonne.

"Enough of the bullshit Zeke—are you gonna help us or not?" Michonne asked testily.

Jesus winced, sharing a look with Rick and then raised his gaze apologetically up to Ezekiel, who was staring raptly at the woman who dared to challenge him.

"We've come to petition your majesty; looking for an alliance against—" Rick began, striving for a conciliatory tone, but he stopped when the self-styled King stood up, holding his hand for silence.

"First we break bread. You must be famished from your long trip. We will reconvene in one hour in the banqueting hall." he beckoned to a man and a woman standing beside and behind him. "Take them to chambers where they may rest and refresh themselves..." and then he made a gesture of dismissal.

The crowd behind the visitors parted and Jesus stood, nodding to Rick that he should do the same, and the four of them reluctantly turned and followed their guides out.

* * *

Sanctuary

"You need to talk to your friends." Negan said pleasantly, setting his delicate porcelain coffee cup down onto the saucer and placing it on the small round café table, set for breakfast for two, in front of them.

Carol was feeling well enough to come to the table and her new bodyguard had accompanied her to his master's chambers, only a short walking distance from the rooms occupied by his wives. The poached eggs and toast were gentle on her stomach, the oatmeal laced with honey filling and warm, as was the herbal tea she preferred to the coffee he drank.

Raising her head, her eyes briefly meeting Daryl's look of concern before coolly meeting Negan's gaze, Carol frowned and lowered her fork.

"Is there a problem?" she asked.

"There is a choice to be made." Negan said, his voice taking on a more serious tone.

Carol waited, her stomach dropping, sensing whatever decision she was going to ask of her would be unwelcome.

"Your bargain with me was to come willingly as my wife." Negan said, watching her closely. "And I would spare your town."

"As I have done." Carol said evenly, staring at him, her expression giving nothing away.

The big man leaned forward in his chair and took her right hand in his, rubbing his thumb over her palm as if feeling the small ridged scars left there by the thorns of wild white roses she'd once destroyed in despair. He pulled her closer until her could reach out and cup her chin, holding her in place as he leaned in.

"Yet your delicate condition means we have not been able to consummate our marriage." he breathed before closing his eyes and fitting his lips to hers in a sensual kiss.

Carol didn't resist, but her eyes rose again to Daryl's, pleading with him to stay back.

Negan's personal guard, a burly Italian looking man with an Uzi held in front of him, watched avidly, licking his lips, and Carol's skin crawled thinking of what he probably witnessed in these rooms daily.

Daryl's jaw tightened and his grip on his bow made his knuckles go white, but he didn't move.

Carol closed her eyes on her tears, forcing herself to kiss her captor back, her hand rising to Negan's wrist, holding his hand on her chin in place, not because she desired his touch, but because she didn't want it to move anywhere else on her body.

Negan groaned as he felt what he thought was her response to him and his other hand came up and cradled the back of her head, plundering her mouth, his tongue plunging in over and over. Then suddenly the sound of shattering china forced him to break the kiss. He looked down and saw that they had accidentally knocked his coffee cup to the floor as they'd moved even closer together.

"Damn, I _want _you...you make me forget myself..." Negan purred, rubbing his right thumb over her swollen lips, taking her reddened cheeks for a passionate response to his lovemaking, not the fury she really felt.

"Are you asking me to choose between you and the child?" Carol asked, trembling, her eyes filling with more tears. They both knew the doctors' warnings.

Negan reacted with shock.

"What? No—never!" he assured her, lifting his napkin to wipe at her tears, looking chastened.

She almost collapsed in relief, her shoulders bowing, taking the cloth from him and weeping in an overabundance of emotion foreign to her, using it to distract Negan from the man behind him with a primed crossbow staring daggers.

Daryl watched for a few seconds more and then slowly relaxed, wishing he could let loose the bolt that would end the man's evil existence. It wasn't time, not yet, not until they found Carl and got him and the women all to safety.

"The choice isn't that, my dear." Negan told her again, waiting for her sobs of relief to subside.

Carol looked up at him in confusion, sniffling and frowning.

"I need you to help me chose which of my other new wives will have the honor of taking your place in my bed tonight." the monster said affably, pushing her hair behind her ear and rubbing his thumb over her cheekbone as if she was a child he was comforting.

_No, no, no..._ Carol's brain scrambled for another solution. He wanted her to choose one of her friends? Tell him which one of the women in her family to _rape_? Enid, barely sixteen? Rosita, already assaulted more than once? Or Tara, who'd never been with a man?

"I've given your friends a week to understand their place here. No one stays for free. If they have other skills to offer, like the physician, then I need you to tell me about that now." he told her, looking at her expectantly.

"Tara was in the police before the Turn; she has weapons and tactical expertise." Carol said quickly, "Rosita is a medic, she served as Erin's nurse... and Enid... Enid worked in the kitchens... but she's only a child."

"If she's started bleeding she isn't a child, she's a woman and can make her own decisions about her body." Negan said flatly.

"So it's still a decision?" Carol asked carefully. "Not a command?"

"It's a choice. I would never take a woman against her will." Negan said stoutly and then turned to Daryl, who held his cocked bow at his side, still ready to raise it in Carol's defense if needed, "Or a man for that matter."

Carol made a little involuntary noise of sympathy in her throat and Daryl's left eye twitched in a barely perceptible wince of embarrassment.

Negan smiled knowingly as he reinforced what he had told Carol this morning when he'd announced Daryl would be her new guard. Because of his past, she wouldn't have to worry about Archer "imposing" on her—he was her loyal dog, only slightly more articulate.

"So if none of them agree to... you'll assign them other duties?" Carol asked, wanting his promise.

"Some of the duties are not so pleasant, nor are the living conditions, compared to yours here, so comfortable that I think they'd wish to give up what I'm offering them as a wife." Negan told her smoothly, turning back to her and shrugging. "One of the women from Alexandria will be willing to share my bed tonight; we'll call it your tithe to keep me from returning there to seek more _willing_ bed mates."

Carol went pale, finally understanding. He expected one of them to volunteer to have sex with him willingly, to save the rest. It was blackmail and rape, no matter how he tried to dress it up as "choice."

"I'll need to talk to them." she finally said, raising her eyes to him.

Negan nodded and stood, moving to her side of the table.

"I'll have them brought to your quarters for the mid day meal." he said and leaned in to give her a possessive goodbye kiss, then turned and nodded to Daryl as he strode to the door. His guard opened it, checking with those who waited outside before motioning Negan through and then followed him, a big smirk on his face.

Daryl closed the door behind them and looked over at a dry eyed Carol who was using her napkin to rub at her already red and swollen lips, as if she could wipe the other man's kisses away. He wanted to go to her, but he was very aware of the two closed circuit cameras above the bed. Negan used them primarily to capture and relive his sexual escapades, but he also used them to tape meetings held in the room.

"Are you all right, ma'am?" Daryl asked, quietly deferential.

"What do _you_ think?" Carol snapped back, angrily throwing the napkin down onto the table and leaning her forehead on her shaking hand.

"Should I send for the doctor?" Daryl asked, letting his real worry show through.

"Erin...yes, Dr. Yang I mean." Carol said, looking up at him and holding out her hand, adding shyly, "And I want to go back to my room... but I ...I need your help..."

Daryl immediately shouldered his bow and went to her, helping her stand, but her knees buckled and his arms went under them, keeping her from falling, lifting her and cradling her against his chest.

"I'm taking you to the Infirmary." he said firmly, but she squeezed his arm with a strength that belied her weak kneed act.

"No—I want to go to _my room_." she told him again, raising her head to stare unblinkingly into his troubled eyes.

There were no cameras in her room.

Daryl frowned at her, clearly wanting to argue, but then nodded and carried her to the door, which opened just before he reached it. Dwight stood there, a look of surprise on his face, not having expected the sight that greeted him. Carol rested her head on Daryl's chest, keeping her eyes closed.

"She sick?" the scarred man asked suspiciously.

"Feeling faint—wants to go to her room." Daryl growled, impatient to be gone.

"Where's the Boss?" Dwight asked, looking over Daryl's shoulder into the room.

"Just missed him." Daryl said as evenly as he could. He was like a beer shaken hard before opened, the pressure from maintaining his cool against Negan's unwitting provocations ready to explode out of him.

"Good—it's her I need to talk to... alone." Dwight replied in a near whisper, his eyes darting to the two armed guards standing about ten feet away at the door to the women's chambers.

"Not supposed to leave her alone." Daryl said in a low dangerous voice.

"Takin' your new duties a mite serious-like aren't ya, Archer?" Dwight smirked, noticing how Carol had nestled so close and trustingly into the other man's arms. He leaned even closer, whispering into Daryl's ear_, "I'm thinkin' maybe the kid in the hat lied... it ain't the little Latin number what's __yours__ after all..." _

Carol's eyes flew open, meeting Dwight's narrowed eyes and then she looked up at Daryl hopefully, gripping his bicep tightly.

Daryl hesitated, their silent conversation giving Dwight confirmation of his suspicions: the Queen and her pups belonged to the Archer.

"Kid's safe... for now..." Dwight muttered, "But we need to talk, private like."

Carol nodded in assent and Daryl sighed, not at all sure he trusted the other bowman, but going with her instincts. He headed down the hall with her still in his arms, Dwight trailing behind.

* * *

Kingdom

"Are you enjoying yourself, Lady Michonne? The food and wine was to your liking?" Ezekiel asked, finding her alone on the terrace off the banqueting hall overlooking the inner courtyard of his grand home.

"What do you want from us, Ezekiel?" Michonne asked, refusing to play into his courtly fantasies.

"Merely to be a good host—that is still allowed, is it not?" he asked her.

"The boy I love like a son and six other friends I consider to be my family are being held by that lunatic Negan." Michonne said in a quiet but heated voice. "I watched him turn another friend's head into a bloody piñata with a barb wire wrapped baseball bat. I don't give a shit what kind of host you are."

"_Well..."_ the man said, nonplussed, unused to being spoken to so boldly and honestly.

"What do you want from us?" Michonne asked, narrowing her eyes and stepping into his space, her face mere inches from his. "You've been coming on to me since the moment we met—is that it? If I fuck you will you help us?" she stared him down, "Quid pro quo? I've made worse deals."

"You think I'm the devil demanding a Teind for helping you save your people and overthrowing the Saviors?" Ezekiel said, sounding affronted, and then his tone turned silken, his hands lifting to smooth over her shoulders "If you come to my bed, it will because of desire, not obligation, Michonne."

Her chin went up and she didn't protest as he pulled her closer, admitting to herself there was an attraction, knowing that behind his blustering façade he'd had the wisdom and power necessary to lead these people and earn the respect of a man like Jesus.

To have a man openly admit he wanted her was something she hadn't had in a very long time. There was nothing ambiguous about the look in his eyes, nor were there painful memories fraught with suffering to overcome with him.

His warm gaze focused on her lips and again she didn't protest when his mouth touched hers in a gentle kiss full of need.

* * *

_AN: Uh oh! _

_Thanks for reading;-)_


	52. Chapter 52: The Eye of the Tiger

_While Rick expresses his distrust of Ezekiel, Michonne learns more about their host at Kingdom. Negan continues to show his disturbing philosophy of life while Carol and Daryl learn what Dwight has to tell them about Sanctuary._

* * *

_**The Eye of the Tiger **_

_It's the eye of the tiger__  
__It's the thrill of the fight__  
__Rising up to the challenge of our rival__  
__And the last known survivor__  
__Stalks his prey in the night__  
__And he's watching us all with the eye...  
...of the tiger...  
_\- Survivor, 1982

* * *

Kingdom

"I don't like him." Rick said sullenly, taking another big swig of the local hooch, a fermented apple cider with a bit of a kick.

Jesus gave him a serious look of consideration, using some of the garlicky lavash flat bread to clean the savory drippings of the rabbit stew out of his bowl. Kingdom had an excellent woman in charge of the community kitchens, a former elementary school cook who rivaled Carol's ability to make delicious meals out of assorted canned foods, the herbs and veg they grew and the game they could hunt.

"That wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that your girl there, Michonne, _does_?" the cook asked Rick, offering him more stew, which he declined, sullenly refilling his mug instead.

"Now Ruth, man's got a right to his opinions. Don't stay alive long in this world trusting everyone you meet." Ben, Ezekiel's right hand man drawled with equanimity. "Might not have anything to do with the fact his gal took a romantic evening stroll with his majesty."

Ruth, a small round Italian woman with graying black hair secured in a tight bun at the back of her neck, chuckled knowingly.

"What?" Rick snapped. "Michonne is her own person. None of my business what she does."

"_Or who?" _Ben snarked under his breath. The stunning woman visitor with the dreadlocks wouldn't be the first to fall for Ezekiel's charms.

At that Rick stood up, none too steady on his feet and then leaned forward, planting his hands on the table to rebalance himself, and then his head slowly tilted to the side while he stared Ben down with narrowed eyes.

"_Fuck you." _Rick growled in a low menacing voice and then lurched backwards, stopped from falling off the bench only by Jesus' strong arm around his back.

"Hey now, buddy, take it easy." Jesus said soothingly, helping Rick stand until the other man angrily pushed him away.

"I came here to get help taking down the bastard... the _monster_ that has my son and some of the most important people in the world to me." Rick seethed at them all, "I haven't seen anything yet that tells me your puffed up excuse for a king has any idea how to help me do that. So _no_, I don't like him."

Then he carefully stepped back over the bench and drew himself up to his full height. Fighting the wave of dizziness that passed over his face, he turned to go, but at the last second turned back to the people at the table and added,

"And if he screws around and hurts Michonne, I'll beat the _shit_ out of him."

* * *

"Shiva was in the National Zoo, almost starved to death. I found her there, nursed her back to health. Guess she thinks she owes me. She's not tame, but she listens to what I tell her n' she's hell on dead ones... seems to hate them as much as we do." Ezekiel told Michonne while looking fondly at the big cat.

"You were from D.C.?" Michonne asked, watching as the tiger paced back and forth in the large metal barred enclosure that took up half the space in the Kingdom leader's quarters.

"Baltimore." he said, looking over at her, "My group went to D.C. looking for answers. Mostly found the city abandoned. We went to the big stone cathedral there to shelter—there's a basement crypt—the zoo wasn't that far so we went there scavenging for supplies—thought they'd have vet supplies, antibiotics and the like."

"Good thought—we found anti-virals and other meds at a vet college." Michonne nodded.

"Where you're from? Georgia?" he asked shrewdly, giving her a calculating look.

"Yes... Atlanta..." she said slowly, giving him a raised eyebrow look, "How'd you know?"

"I listen; I know accents." He said, looking pleased with himself.

"So just what were you...before the Turn?" Michonne asked him, wondering if she could hear truth or just more B.S. in his explanation. After the kiss he'd tried to convince her to come to his room with the excuse of needing to check on the cat, but she knew a line when she heard one. He wanted her in his bed or wherever else he could have her. Out of curiosity she went, but had no intention of sleeping with him.

Ezekiel tilted his head in a move so like Rick's signature look that Michonne chuckled and had to put her hand in front of her mouth to keep from letting the smile devolve into a full out laugh. _Men._

The other man frowned at her.

"You aren't as smooth as you think you are, Zeke." Michonne smiled.

"_Damn."_ Ezekiel said, his voice lighter than she'd heard it before, more than a trace of humor in it. He crossed to the bedside table and offered her a drink, which she declined, before pouring himself one from the decanter of wine there. "You're hell on a dude's ego, baby."

"So what's with all the King Arthur crap?" she asked him, "You work at a Medieval Times? Before?"

He looked at her for a long moment as if trying to decide which version of his life he would spin out for her. Something told him her sharp bullshit detector was already tuned in tight to him, so he did something he rarely if ever tried. The truth.

"I was an actor." he told her, "Mostly local theatre in Baltimore and Philly, but a little off-Broadway—kind of a poor man's James Earl Jones..." he held out his arms, showing off the fancy robe. "People like the pageantry, the show, you know?"

"So what about now? Is this all show?" Michonne asked him pensively.

"No—it's _ridiculously_ real. These people follow me, believe in me." He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face, making a decision. "I'll do what I can to help your friends... your family... as _much_ as I can... but Negan? People find themselves doing what he wants because to do otherwise is too frightening to contemplate."

"My friends are strong and I believe in them." Michonne told him. "We've made it through worse."

"Anyone who's still alive at this point is either strong or lucky or both." Ezekiel gave her a sad smile, "Negan's both. He's also a vicious smart son of a bitch convinced of his own righteousness. You go against him and he will do his best to destroy you."

"And anyone who helps us?" Michonne asked, tilting her head at him.

"And he'll make it _ugly_." Ezekiel nodded.

* * *

Sanctuary

"Do you know the difference between them and us, Wade?" Negan asked, sounding contemplative, both of them sitting in lawn chairs atop the RV they used as an observation stand at the edge of the arena, watching the walkers milling about in the stock pens.

"You mean besides the obvious?" his second in command asked with a snort, spitting a stream of chew out over the edge of the RV's roof.

"What? They move, they consume, and they congregate in large numbers giving them greater power..." Negan said. "They bring fear with them... and death, just like us."

"They _are_ death—got no souls—just husks that forgot they ain't supposed to still be moving." Wade scoffed.

"You gettin' philosophical on me there Wade?" Negan chuckled and then he picked up the sniper rifle with a big silencer on the muzzle that he had laid across his lap, sighted it and quietly put a round into the head of a female walker that was missing both arms. When it crumpled and dropped, its place in the milling crowd immediately occupied by another shambling shuffling form.

"There's an endless supply; none of them any more special than another. There's no spark of individuality left in there anymore." Wade shrugged.

"So you think that's the difference? I snuff one of them and it makes no never mind." Negan took aim again, his head shot picking off a second walker missing part of one leg that was limping in confused circles. Then he turned in his chair to where a group of people were working, unloading a truck and carrying supplies inside one of the warehouse containers. One man was noticeably limping, having a hard time keeping up with the rest.

Before Wade understood what was happening, Negan raised the silenced rifle sight to his eye, took a deep breath and fired again. A red spot bloomed over the limping man's chest and seconds later he pitched back and then forward and fell to the ground. The rest of the workers looked confused, two of them kneeling beside the fallen man and turning him over. When they saw the wound in his chest they looked around frantically, staying low.

"Have to cull the herd." Negan said definitively, "No room for the weak. They just hold us back." then he rose and handed the rifle over to Wade, gesturing to the fallen man. "See to it that it goes in the pens before it comes back."

Wade sat silently, his face blank.

The men kneeling by the dead man crouched lower, relaxing when they saw Negan stand and hand Wade the rifle.

Only after he had climbed down off of the RV and walked all the way across the compound, the door closing behind him did the men surrounding the man Negan had just murdered move. One of them looked up at Wade, raising his knife, silently asking permission. Wade nodded yes and the other man swiftly gave mercy to Negan's victim.

"Gerry. His name was Gerry." Wade muttered to himself, angry and sickened. "He was a carpenter and had two kids he loved more than anything. And _that's_ the difference."

* * *

"We need a diversion—something to get Negan away from here for a few days—some emergency." Carol said. "But we don't want to send him back to Alexandria or Hilltop..."

"Can't we just kill him?" Dwight asked, impatient with plans and plots. He just wanted to be done with it; to be done with this _place_.

"What happens then? With no one here to control the rest of them?" Daryl scowled. He was under no illusions about what would happen if the rough men were given free rein to do as they wished. "No, we need him gone, but expected back."

While they all pondered that, Daryl stared at Carol, his brow creasing in worry.

"You gonna be able to travel?" Daryl asked her. He knew it was at least two months too soon for her to have the baby safely. Erin had warned them both about the dangers of preterm delivery. The incubator and supplies that Glenn and the others had been looking for on the trip to Bethesda were supposed to have given them some breathing room.

"If we go today, probably." Carol told him, "There's an OBGYN specialist at Hilltop so that's where we should try for."

"That's at least 30 miles from here—we're gonna need a vehicle." Daryl looked expectantly at Dwight. "Big enough to carry seven people."

"Nine—maybe ten people." Dwight said. At their looks of confusion he elaborated. "Me and Sherry are goin' too. And probably Carson—especially when he finds out his brother's been at Hilltop this whole time and Negan didn't tell him."

"_What?"_ Daryl asked. Carson had said he was looking for his brother when he came to the area. This might be just the leverage they needed to win the doctor over to their side. He could tell the man was already uncomfortable with the situation they were all forced to live under here.

"Yeah—boss knows we need a doctor for his big baby making plans and didn't want to take the chance that Carson would bolt." Dwight confirmed. "He swore me 'n the other guys who went on the runs to Hilltop to silence about the brother; know what they say... blood _is_ thicker..."

Carol looked to Daryl, remembering how he'd left them, left _her_ at the prison, to go off with Merle after Woodbury. He met her eyes and she saw the unspoken guilt and apology there and gave him the barest smile of understanding. He _had_ come back, that was all that mattered now.

"We need to talk to Carson." Carol said.

"Maybe we can kill two birds..." Daryl said. "We need to get Negan outa here today, right?"

"Yeah, so?" Dwight asked, his tone suspicious.

"He'd do just about anything for you, right?" Daryl asked Carol and she frowned at him. "What if Carson tells him he thinks you n' the baby need some special sorta medical equipment that they ain't got here? I can tell him some story about the stuff we were goin' after in Bethesda."

"What if he wants you to go with him, to show him where?" Carol asked, troubled. "Or Carson, to make sure it's the right stuff?"

"Neither one of us can leave your side." Daryl shook his head. "He said as much hisself. Told the two of us you're our responsibility. He don't trust nobody else to be your body guard n' he won't trust any of the rest to go on such a vital mission—he'll go."

"Right—first we get Carson, then when Tara and them are here for the meeting Carol has a spell and we send Negan off on his special mission." Daryl told them. "I signal Aaron and the others and they take care of the rest." The diversion that they'd planned to get Daryl and the others back out of the complex and safely away was risky, but they hadn't had a whole lot of time to plan it. Its main value was that it had worked before for them.

"What about Carl?" Carol asked.

"Your kid? Told you he's fine. Got him stashed in a safe place for now. Too many questions if anyone sees him." Dwight griped.

"I need him with the rest of us— you have to bring him to us; when they bring Rosita and the others." Carol ordered him.

"And _Sherry_." Dwight stubbornly insisted.

"Are you sure she's gonna be down with leaving? Seems like she's pretty well adjusted to the high life here." Daryl said dubiously. The woman had stripped down in front of him and a room full of Negan's guards, ready to have a threesome with him and another woman while everyone watched. She didn't seem to be exactly pining for her husband.

"That's coz she don't think there's any other way." Dwight said, bleakness underlying his voice. He raised his hand to his scarred face and the tears that constantly flowed from his damaged eye increased. "After Negan did this... I ... I hated her for going back to him... but I know she did it to save me too..."

"You really think you can ... that _we can_ trust her not to give us away?" Carol asked.

"If you promise her a way out... yeah, I do." Dwight said.

"What about the rest of them? Kayla and the other wives?" Carol pressed.

"I don't know... I don't think any of them really want to be here." Dwight said, looking at both her and Daryl. "Do you?"

Daryl grunted at the obvious answer, but Carol looked troubled, placing her hands over her abdomen and looking down.

"We can't take everybody, Carol." Daryl said gently, regretfully, sitting down on the bed beside her and putting his hands over hers.

"We can if we kill him... Negan..." Carol said, her head coming up, the look in her cold blue eyes steely.

* * *

**AN:**_ Oh Rick._

_Negan believes a ruler needs to be feared by his subjects to maintain control, apparently never imagining how easily it turns to hate._

_Go Carol._


	53. Chapter 53: Monster

_Carol and Negan negotiate; Daryl and Erin gain an ally; and Dwight fucks up and possibly endangers everyone in Sanctuary._

_Explicit content warning__: coerced sexual acts_

_This was a tough one to write. __It gets pretty dark._

* * *

_**Monster**_

"_Sasquatch, Godzilla, King Kong  
Loch Ness, Goblin, Ghoul, a zombie with no conscience,  
Question what do these things all have in common?  
Everybody knows I'm a motherfucking monster!"_

"_You can be the King, but watch the Queen conquer...  
...now look at what you just saw, this is what you live for!  
Ah, I'm a motherfucking monster!"  
\- _Jay Z./Kanye West/Nicki Minaj, Monster

* * *

Sanctuary

Sweeping into the room ahead of Daryl, Carol smiled warmly up at Negan and held out her hands for him to take.

"My darling; how lovely you look." Negan breathed, his gaze roaming over her, settling appreciatively on the swell of her cleavage in the low cut red dress that pulled tightly over her breasts.

"Thank you." she said, her long lashes sweeping down as she demurely accepted the compliment, leaning up to kiss his cheek, giving him an eyeful.

Daryl gnawed on the inside of his lower lip, watching them with a flinty squint. They all knew the man was loose cannon, unpredictable and vicious, a user of women. He had to be carefully played and Carol knew better than to provoke his lusts like this when she wasn't on a self-imposed deadline to save the hell out of everyone here.

He hadn't liked her mild acquiescence after he'd unilaterally vetoed her plan to personally take out Negan. It wasn't like her to back down so easily. When she'd come out of the bathroom wearing what she was wearing, chosen by her deliberately to bait and distract Negan with what he couldn't have, Daryl had wanted to toss her over his shoulder and carry her to safety, to hell with all the rest of them.

The dress made him insane—long sleeved and empire waisted, it fell gracefully in swirls over her rounded abdomen to just above her knees, but was cut in a deep V at the neck, cradling and exposing so much of her creamy skin that it took everything he had not to just grab a blanket off the bed and wrap it around her.

"Leave us." Negan said, dismissing Daryl, all of his attention on Carol, enjoying looking at her and barely able to contain his excitement at whatever answer she would give him, wondering which of the other delectable women in her group he would have the pleasure of enjoying a honeymoon with tonight.

"You told me to never leave her side." Daryl said stubbornly, staying in place at the door.

"She's in no danger with me, Archer. Get out." Negan ordered more forcefully, sounding impatient, his tone brooking no argument.

"You forget your place, bowman." Carol said a bit arrogantly, lifting her chin as she looked back over her shoulder at Daryl. "I need no protection from my husband."

The muscles in Daryl's neck tightened and one below his eye jumped as his mouth thinned even further. This wasn't part of the plan.

"_Out. Leave. Now."_ Negan barked at Daryl with finality and then he pulled Carol close, bending to hold her face in both hands and fit his lips to hers.

Reaching behind him to find the door knob, Daryl white knuckle gripped it, wrenched it open and backed through, his eyes still fixed on the couple in front of him. In the hall one of Negan's big AK-47 sporting body guards leaned in to look over Daryl's shoulder before he reached around him and pulled the door shut with a snap. He took up a position directly in front of it, blocking Daryl from even coming close enough to listen for voices or any other sounds from within.

"You heard the boss, Katniss." the steroid case guard muttered at Daryl in derision, _"Leave."_

Daryl bristled, his hand ghosting over his knife, but the six foot five heavily armed guard outweighed him by at least fifty pounds. Sighing in frustration he headed for the Infirmary, hoping that Carson and Erin were ready for Carol's call, and that it would come _very_ soon.

Negan's hands slid down to encircle Carol's throat, deepening the kiss before moving it to her jaw.

"You're glowing..." he murmured, "I've never seen a woman with whom pregnancy agreed more..." his lips trailed down her throat and his hands cupped her shoulders.

Carol held herself with as much relaxation as she could, accepting his touch and flattery with the same strong grace she relied on to survive every horrible thing she had ever endured... the times Ed had laid his hands on her in anger; when Sophia hadn't appeared by Rick's side coming out of the woods next to the highway and every minute since then without her; when the door to the solitary cell clanged shut and she thought she'd wasted T-Dog's sacrifice; when she saw Judith the first time and looked at Rick's face and realized what that meant; when she knew what she had to do to stop the illness at the prison from spreading; when she tried the locked car door and Rick had told her he didn't want her around his children; Mikka, Lizzie, Grady and Beth, the Wolves taking Daryl, Glenn—all of it swirled in her mind as she held herself still, letting the monster have his way, biding her time...

He peppered kisses over her collar bone and then the tops of her breasts, growing bolder when she allowed it, slipping his left hand into the bodice of her dress to fondle her and then taking her right hand in his and dragging it down to feel his rock hard erection pushing up against the fly of his tight jeans while he sucked down on her neck.

"_Feel what you do to me..."_ he moaned, moving her hand up and down on his length and licking up the side of her neck to capture her lips again, his left hand moving the fabric aside so he could expose her breast and sighing before kissing his way quickly down to it and suckling there with gusto.

Carol gritted her teeth and flexed the fingers of her left hand, ready to reach up and release the scalpel hidden in the forearm sheath she'd sewn into the sleeve of her dress, a narrow pocket holding the weapon in place with elastic at its mouth.

"_Jerk me off and I'll let your friends have another week to decide."_ he whispered, the lust making his voice husky and thick, nosing into the vee of her cleavage, pushing the rest of the bodice aside so both breasts were exposed, and holding her right hand to his fly tightly while he sucked down on the other nipple.

In that cold corner of her brain where she'd hidden when Ed had used her body, taking what he wanted from her, where she could rise above the pain and humiliation, Carol considered his offer. _She could kill him now—slide the small sharper than a razor blade across his carotid and watch him bleed out, rid the world of another monster—but his guards, the men and women loyal to him? How could she hope to get everyone away from here before his death was discovered by them?_

_He was offering her another week? Another week to plan, to prepare their way so they could all escape safely? How could she refuse that? _Carol slid the scalpel back up securely into the sheath and lowered her left hand to his waist, running it slowly along his beltline and then using it to tug at his big silver belt buckle, opening it with a clank.

_I'm so sorry, Daryl... please stay outside... please forgive me... _she sent the thoughts to her love as Negan lifted his head, smiling down at her. He kissed her again and then walked to the door, sliding the bolt lock into place.

Carol winced behind his back as she imagined Daryl's reaction to that unmistakable sound.

"No cameras." Carol insisted, lifting her chin and nodding toward the bed. "Turn them off or no deal." She couldn't stand the thought of Daryl ever being forced to watch this.

"Of course." Negan purred, "This is just for us and no one else, my darling." Then he turned to her and took her hands again walking her backwards with him to the bed. When they reached it, he leaned over and flicked a switch and the red lights on the two cameras went out. Then he stopped her and laid one big hand on her belly over the red dress, rubbing in a lazy circle.

"I'd never hurt him or you, I promise." he said quietly, staring into her eyes, "This is about you n' me—you're _mine_; fuck, I wish I could be inside you—wish I could see your beautiful blues lookin' up at me while you kneel down in loving submission and suck me off till my eyes rolled back—but Carson says _no_. Puts too much stress on the little guy." he sighed in heavy disappointment and took her chin in his other hand.

Carol kept her eyes wide, innocent and trusting, her look saying she awaited her master's wishes. It was a well-practiced one from another lifetime.

"So I'll settle for this... you get me going good with those delicate little hands and then I'm gonna come on your gorgeous tits after I own them some more, so let's get that pretty fuck-me frock off you, all right?" then he reached behind her and unzipped the dress, pulling down on it until it fell to the floor.

All she wore under it was a small pair of cotton panties, barely visible under the swell of her abdomen.

"My Madonna." he said with satisfaction, "Such pretty soft pale skin..." and he smiled, starting to unbutton his shirt with his right hand while cupping and squeezing her breasts with the left, unable to resist leaning in to lick and suck at them again, "_Fuck_, your nipples taste _so_ sweet..." he growled, pulling his shirt off over his head and lifting her up to lay her down on the big round bed.

* * *

"What's wrong?" Erin asked when Daryl came slamming into the Infirmary alone.

Agitated, he paced, looking up at the clock to gauge how long it had been since he'd been ordered away from the upstairs door.

"Negan's fucking guards forced me to leave. Said they had orders from him to clear the hallway while he talked to Carol in private about her decision." he was clearly furious and worried about what might be happening in that room several floors above them.

"He won't risk hurting her and the child." Carson said, trying to reassure Daryl.

"I know... I _think_ I know that's true... but I'm just as worried that she'll get hurt trying to take him out." Daryl told him, raising his thumb to his mouth and chewing at the cuticle, continuing to pace.

"_Carol?"_ Carson asked, looking doubtful. "I thought we were just waiting for her to cry wolf and set things in motion."

Erin and Daryl exchanged a look.

When he learned that his brother was safe and living at Hilltop, Dr. Carson had been more than willing to join the escape plan. He'd never been comfortable with the way Negan ran things, but with no weapons or training in hand-to-hand combat skills he hadn't been confident enough of his survival out on the road alone to try and leave before this. He was a proctologist, not a ninja.

He'd been very surprised to learn that Daryl was the father of Carol's child, admiring them both for their abilities at subterfuge and stealth. He also understood that there must be a deep bond of trust and love between them to have overcome Daryl's abuse.

"She's tough." Erin said, "And more than capable of killing him, but that's _not_ the plan."

"Let's just hope _she_ remembers that." Daryl said darkly, pacing the room.

There was a knock on the door and Daryl whipped around to walk to it swiftly and fling it open, but it was only Dwight, who was pale, sweaty and wild-eyed, missing his crossbow.

"What is it?" Erin asked him, but he blew past her and went straight to Carson.

"I need... I need help..." Dwight choked out. "Need you to come with me."

"What's wrong?" Daryl asked, momentarily distracted from his worry over Carol. They didn't need any more complications.

"I need the _doctor._" Dwight choked out, grabbing Carson's arm roughly. "Now!"

"We're waiting for Carol to call for him." Daryl reminded the other man, "The plan is—"

"_I don't give a flying fuck about your plan!"_ Dwight hissed, spittle flying as he starting dragging a resisting Carson forward.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Erin asked, blocking the way to the door.

"It's Sherry! I think... I think I hurt her real bad..." Dwight sobbed, sounding heartbroken.

* * *

Loud sounds of shouting and running sounded outside the bedroom where Carol lay passively on the big bed, letting the monster, who was already half dressed again in his jeans and boots, clean his mess off her upper body and hands with a warm wet washcloth. She abstractly looked at the clock on the wall and noted that only fifteen minutes had passed since Daryl had been ordered out of the room.

She was listless, drifting, not quite fully back in her body yet, but getting there. During, she had only distantly felt the sensations of being touched, but now her breasts were sore and bruised from his intense obsessive attentions to them, her mouth swollen from his kisses, her neck pink with whisker burn and her hands still remembered the terrible hot thick hardness of him under them as she worked to bring him to climax, the first slick gush coating them before he took over, his fist pumping hard, groaning out his pleasure as he did exactly as he'd promised.

There had been no physical force or overt cruelty in what he had done, he hadn't struck, bound or bitten her and he'd been careful not to touch her belly or any part of her body below her breasts, but she had been raped before and she knew that this was what the aftermath felt like.

Consent wasn't possible when the person with the power in the situation coerced you. No matter how gently he treated her, Carol hadn't wanted _any_ of what she had just done and had done to her. She'd done it to spare her friends the same or much worse; to save Daryl by giving them more time to plan their escape.

She hoped he'd understand that.

"What the hell is that racket?" Negan said angrily, glaring at the door. Using the towel he'd also brought to the bed he quickly dried her and brushed a kiss to her forehead before pulling the covers up over her and tucking her in.

"You rest, sweetheart. I need to go see what the fuck the problem is out there." he told her. When she didn't respond he frowned down at her, "You okay?" he asked, looking concerned.

Carol blinked up at him, willing herself back into her body, dredging up her self-preservation skills enough to smile at him.

"I'm fine." she said softly then asked with forced false shyness. "Y_ou_?"

"You did _great_, baby." he smiled lasciviously down at her, "You did me _good_. You need anything?"

"Just sleep." she said, stifling a small yawn. What she really wanted was a scalding hot shower to wash all traces of him from her body_ including the drenching crimson spurt when she cut his throat with a quick slash of her scalpel..._ The vivid vision vanished when he spoke, forcing her eyes back to him.

"Sure. Just stay here—I'll send Archer in to watch over you." Negan said and then he bent down to the floor to reach for her dress.

Afraid he'd find the scalpel, she sat up quickly, the bed covers falling to her waist, arresting his attention.

"Thank you—for making sure I'm protected—for taking such good care of _us_." her left hand rested on her belly while she held the right out to him.

Negan took the offered hand and kissed the palm, then licked it, his eyes starting to glaze over with lust again, leaning closer. He liked seeing the scattering of bruises he'd left on her tits from sucking down hard, drawing the blood to the surface of her pale freckled skin. She was _his,_ she should wear his brand.

"Negan! Sir!" one of the guards pounded on the door, "We got walkers inside the perimeter!"

"_Shit!"_ Negan bit out, dropping Carol's hand, quickly grabbing his shirt and putting it on as he stalked to the door, pulling Lucille from where she rested against the wall next to it. He unlocked the door and flung it open to Daryl's anxious face.

"Get in there and lock this door behind you." Negan ordered him and then he was gone, pounding down the hall with his guards.

Daryl did as he was ordered, then his hunter's gaze swept the room, seeing Carol's dress pooled on the floor beside the bed and her on it, bare shouldered, the sheet clutched to her chest, her expressive eyes wide but shuttered from any expression of emotion.

Daryl's mouth worked, taking several deep breaths before he trusted himself to speak. He could smell the familiar scent of spunk and sweat; saw the washcloth and towel; recognized the faraway hollow look in her eyes.

"_Did he hurt you?"_ he asked her gently, but remained frozen in place, his guilt overwhelming, screaming in his head,

_How could I have left her alone with him?_

"We have another week." she replied, and her swollen lips pressed tightly together when she finished speaking; he could tell she'd bitten through the lower one by the thin red line of blood between them.

"_Did he fucking hurt you?"_ Daryl asked again, his voice tight with fury, taking a step towards her, but stopping, not wanting to frighten her.

"Can you just hold me?" Carol asked, her voice finally breaking with weary sadness.

Daryl quickly pulled off his bow and went to her, sitting on the side of the bed, unsure if he should try to touch her, but willing to do as she asked. She lifted her arms and pulled him close, fitting his body to hers as best she was able with the child between them.

"What's happening out there?" Carol asked him, her voice muffled from resting her head on his broad shoulder.

_What happened in here?_ Daryl wanted to ask, but didn't. He forced himself to keep an even tone as he told her what had gone wrong.

"Dwight talked to Sherry about leaving—you were right, she didn't want to go—thought with you gone she'd have Negan all to herself n' be Queen again. He lost it—strangled her, broke her neck, panicked and came to get Carson."

"She turned?" Carol asked.

"Asshole didn't want to believe he'd killed her, so he just left here there in the wives rooms while he came for the doc. She killed the little blonde and bit Kayla on the hand when she tried to stop her—Docs are taking it off now hoping they got to it in time—Sherry and the blonde got out and turned half a dozen more before I came in here."

"Carl? The girls?" Carol said, worried, pushing down her sorrow at more deaths. She had liked Amber and Kayla, but Daryl had been right, they couldn't save them all.

"All safe." Daryl assured her. The turned victims had been confined to this building and Rosita and the others were in a separate part of the complex, while Carl was back in his storage container for now.

"They are." Carol nodded in agreement, suddenly totally exhausted, fighting the drifting floating feeling's return, leaning more heavily against him; taking a deep breath of his smell, leather and smoke and the outdoors; taking comfort in the familiarity of his arms for a few more seconds.

"_Carol?"_ Daryl asked her softly, repeating his earlier question. _"Did he hurt you?"_

"Don't kill him." Carol murmured, gripping his bare bicep tightly as she pulled away from him and looked into his eyes.

"_What?"_ Daryl asked, baffled. _Why the hell would she want to protect Negan?_ He watched as she released his arm and lowered the sheet that had been covering her. When he saw the whisker burn and already darkening bruising on her upper body his mouth came open and he felt his heart jump into his throat, the sick fury and guilt warring to come out tying his tongue.

_How could I have left her alone with him?_

"_Motherfucker!"_ Daryl snarled, his eyes filled with angry tears as they rose from the bruises on her delicate flesh up to her face.

"You can't kill him." Her chin came up and Daryl saw the steel in her gaze and then he understood. It wasn't just because she was worried that he would go after Negan and get _himself_ killed in the process, or how Negan's men would retaliate for his death or that they needed the bastard alive if the plan was going to work...

"Because _you're_ going to." Daryl said, swallowing hard, nodding, letting his tears take a winding path down over his face, catching in his scruff and mustache, making no attempt to wipe them away.

"If it's the last thing I do." she promised, her spine stiff and straight as she stared into his eyes. Then she gave him a lopsided smile and raised her hand to brush at his tears. His breath caught on a sob and she gathered him close, holding his head to her chest, brushing his hair back as he tried to control himself.

"_Sorry."_ Daryl said after a minute, getting himself under control, sniffing hard, wiping his face on his arm, pulling away; despair filling his heart at how he'd failed her again: he hadn't stopped yet another man from abusing her willingness to sacrifice herself to save those she loved...

"It's not your fault." Carol murmured. She knew he'd blame himself for not being here to protect her; that he hated knowing she'd done what she'd done in part to protect _him._

"I need to get you to Erin... make sure you an' the baby are okay." he said, reaching for her dress, wishing he had something that would cover her better, looking around the room.

"He didn't... there was no... penetration... he... was... careful about the baby..." Carol said haltingly, grasping his arm. "I'm okay, Daryl... but we can use this_..._ _against him_." she looked down to the rising bruises on her breasts.

Daryl looked back to her and saw red again, looking at the evidence of what Negan had done to her.

"You're _not_ okay." Daryl said stubbornly. He knew what it was to have your choice taken from you, to have no control over what was being done to your body.

"_I have to be."_ Carol told him.

"_Carol—"_

"We _use _it." Carol repeated, cutting off his protest, pulling the sheet up to cover her and then pushing her hair back behind her ears, looking and sounding calm unless you noticed that her hands were trembling as they alighted to rest on her belly.

"Carson will tell him it wasn't good..." she continued, "...what he did to me—that that it over-stressed the baby, made my blood pressure or heart rate go up, something bad—that's our reason for him having to go to Bethesda for the neonatal equipment."

As he watched her Daryl could see her mind working, coming up with ways to make what she had suffered at Negan's hands work to their advantage. She was the strongest, bravest, most amazing person he'd even known.

He flashed on the satisfaction he'd felt driving his knives into the heart and eye of the wolves who had raped him, and then he was back at the quarry, mesmerized, wincing at the way she had slammed the pickax down on Ed's head over and over, her pent up fury—_her_ _monster_—finally released.

"When it's time? When you do it? When you kill him?" Daryl said, knowing she would, however long it took, his Queen would conquer. _"I want to watch."_

* * *

AN: Despite the fact that his character in the comics &amp; in this story kills members of the Saviors for trying to forcibly rape women captives, saying: "We don't rape,"_ Negan is a rapist_. He uses coerced consent, which is forcing someone to agree to sexual conduct under duress or imminent threat. In this case he threatens Carol's loved ones. It doesn't matter how gentle or careful he is, she does not want what he is doing to her or what she is forced to do for him but cannot refuse and _that is rape._

Daryl's acting skills better be on par with Carol's. The next time he sees Negan he's going to want to put a bolt through him before delivering his ass to Carol to take out...

Thanks for sticking with me.


	54. Chapter 54: Bethesda

_The aftermath of Dwight's murder of Sherry has unexpected consequences. Caryl get a tiny sweet moment and the plan moves ahead._

* * *

Bethesda

_The pool of Bethesda in Jerusalem was famous for healings. People with illness gathered there believing that an angel went down at a certain time into the pool and stirred up the water; then whoever stepped in first, after the stirring of the water, was made well of whatever disease he had. In the bible story, Jesus heals a man there without using the waters._

'_Afterward Jesus found him in the temple, and said to him,__"See, you have been made well. Sin no more, lest a worse thing come upon you."'_ John 5:14

_The name of the pool is said to be derived from the __Hebrew language __and/or __Aramaic language__, __beth __hesda __(_בית חסד_/_חסדא_), meaning either __house of mercy __or __house of __grace__. In both Hebrew and Aramaic the word could also mean 'shame, disgrace'. This dual meaning may have been thought appropriate since the location was seen as a place of disgrace due to the presence of invalids, and a place of grace, due to the granting of healing._

* * *

"Saddest fucking thing in the world: _Man tears_." Negan said derisively, looking at Dwight weeping over Sherry's body which was laid out on one of the exam tables in the Infirmary.

"_He loved her."_ Kayla said in a weak voice from her bed. Her right arm was hooked to an IV, her left, which now ended at her wrist, was propped up and wrapped in layers of gauze, blood starting to seep through the end.

Mark came in, carrying what was left of Amber. In contrast to Dwight, the younger Asian man was stoic. If one didn't know he and Amber had been a couple when they came to Sanctuary you would've thought him just another minion tasked with delivering the corpse. He laid her on the other exam table and stepped back to stand next to it, looking down at her body.

"She was _my _wife." Negan said darkly, glaring at Kayla, pushing Dwight away from Sherry's body and then looked to Dr. Carson. "How the fuck did this happen?"

Carson made a show of examining Sherry's body and then took a scalpel and excised the graying and bloody skin over her throat around the larynx.

"Dwight, was she allergic to anything?" Carson asked, pulling back the skin and muscle to expose the swollen and bruised inner surfaces of her throat. Anyone who knew what they were looking at would've been able to tell that the damage had been done by someone closing their hands around her neck and choking the life out of her, but the doctor had to play this a different way if they wanted Dwight's help in escaping.

Dwight raised his reddened tear stained face to the doctor, wiping his nose on his sleeve and looking down at Sherry's face again. She hadn't been turned long enough to start the worst of the process of decay, but she had been shot through the head; a small caliber bullet had left a little perfect circle right between her eyes, but the exit wound in the back of her skull was much larger and bloody brain matter oozed out onto the exam table from it.

"_Nuts..."_ Dwight mumbled. That was the lie they had agreed upon. In reality Sherry had no allergies.

"Peanuts?" Carson asked leadingly.

"No—ones...ones that grow on trees." Dwight said distractedly, pushing Sherry's hair off her face and then picking up a cloth to try and wipe away the blood outlining her mouth and splattered down onto her chin.

"Tree nuts. Walnuts, almonds, cashews..." Carson nodded. "They're used in a lot of things..."

"Then why the fuck would she _eat_ any?" Negan said with distaste, "She was stupid, but she wasn't _that_ stupid."

Dwight looked up at him reproachfully.

"They aren't just in food—they're used in lotions, shampoos and soaps as well." Erin said, speaking for the first time. The tree nut story had been her idea. While with the Wolves she had a patient who had died from an allergic reaction to them. "She may not have known what she was using had their oils—a lot of what we have is scavenged, no labels."

"Or someone knew and deliberately gave her stuff tainted with the shit." Negan said, narrowing his eyes and looking over at Kayla.

"Right, and then I stuck my hand in her mouth to make sure she swallowed them and she tried to bite it off." Kayla rasped sarcastically.

She and Amber had come into the bedroom looking for Sherry and had been immediately attacked by her walker. Amber's throat had been ripped out before they could even react and Kayla injured when she tried to pull her away. Amber had turned almost immediately. Kayla tried to push them back into the room and lock the door, but she'd been bitten and knocked down and they'd escaped into the hallway and attacked others.

Erin and Carson had found Kayla when Dwight brought them to see Sherry and they'd done the emergency amputation within minutes. After they'd given her the shot of morphine from Negan's private stock and she'd been feeling no pain, she'd asked them to cut around the head of her serpent tattoo if they please could when they took the hand. So far she hadn't spiked a fever nor shown any other signs of the walker infection.

"Things like this happened even before the Turn." Carson said, looking over at Negan. "It was a stupid accident—_anaphylaxis_—a fatal allergic reaction. Only now death comes with an added bonus."

"How many did we lose besides these two?" Negan asked Mark, but he didn't respond; he just continued to stare down at Amber's body.

"Hey asshole, boss asked you a question!" the big burly body guard that had ordered Daryl out of the hallway earlier barked at Mark.

"All she wanted was a safe place for us." Mark monotoned, his breath sounds heavier as he continued. "She put up with you sticking your _dick_ in her so we could have a safe place to stay."

"She made her choice, son." Negan shrugged, "She kicked you to the curb and she had a good life here as my wife. She was a sweet girl who could really take cock, but she's dead so we gotta move on."

"_Rapist."_ Mark said distinctly and then swiftly raised his arm.

The roar of the gunshot was shocking in such a small space.

Erin threw herself over Kayla, trying to protect her while Carson simply dropped down to the floor out of the line of fire.

"_Motherfuck!"_ Negan yelled as the white hot sear of the bullet tore through his shoulder, throwing him back and spinning him to the side.

The bodyguard's AK-47 spat out a line of fire once and Mark fell, clutching his belly, bright red quickly gushing over his hands and the 9 mm handgun he'd used to shoot Negan.

Dwight watched it all dispassionately, the first shot, the bodyguard's retaliation, the way the automatic weapon's power almost cut Mark in half, how quickly Negan recovered and rose, Lucille in hand, enraged, charging across the room to the half dead man who'd just lost the woman he'd loved.

"_You fucking fuck!_ You fucking _shot _me!" Negan roared, incensed that someone so insignificant would try to harm him, and then he realized he was also outraged at the accusations Mark had flung at him as justification, "_We do not rape here_! Amber was my _wife_—"

"Amber loved _me_." Mark gurgled, spitting out blood, "She wanted me, not you! You _hurt_ her. You _raped _her. You raped Sherry. You raped Kayla, Diane, Ellie..."

"_Shut! Your! Fucking! Mouth!" _The barb wired bat raised and fell over and over, punctuating Negan's furious words of denial. There was blood and brain matter and bits of skull with skin and dark hair coating the bat and the floor and Negan when he'd finished reducing Mark's head to a stain on the tile.

"Carson!" the bodyguard yelled, summoning the doctor once his boss's rage was vented. He came forward, supporting Negan with an arm under his uninjured shoulder and half carried him to the exam table where Mark had placed Amber, shoved her body off onto the floor and sat Negan there.

Carson stood, removing his vinyl gloves and snapping on a clean pair and then started gathering supplies to work on the gunshot wound, stepping over the remains of the dead couple and then moved to Negan's side, cutting open his shirt to visualize the field and then holding a gauze pad to the wound.

"Hold this with pressure." Carson instructed the guard, but he shook his head no, whether from squeamishness or because he needed his hands free to remain on guard, he didn't say, but Negan grunted and set Lucille on the floor so he could hold the pad.

Erin eased off Kayla and they exchanged a look that said, _too bad Mark was such a lousy shot._

Just then more armed men burst in, probably having heard the gunfire.

"Everything clear in here?" Ward asked, looking at the carnage, his eyes going wide when he saw Carson working on the boss, using a syringe of lidocaine as a local anesthetic in preparation for going fishing for the bullet.

"Under control." Negan said casually, his rage vented. "Flesh wound."

"Uh—okay, well we have-we have bit of a situation upstairs." Wade said carefully, looking like he'd rather be somewhere; anywhere else.

"More walkers?" Negan asked, starting to stand, but Carson made an annoyed noise and pushed him back down to the table.

"You need to sit still or I'm going to sever an artery in there and you'll bleed out and be dead before I can do anything about it." Carson ordered tersely.

Negan snarled but did what he was told.

"What is it?" Erin asked, coming to assist Carson, holding the tray of instruments he'd need to go in after the slug within his reach.

"Not walkers—Archer sent us for the Doctor—it's Carol." Wade said, wincing to have to tell them this news.

"The baby?" Carson asked, stopping work and frowning in concern.

"He said she's in pain, she's cramping and there's blood...I saw blood on the sheets..." Wade nodded, his mouth tight, obviously upset.

"_No...No—oh shit..."_ Negan said softly, his eyes sliding guiltily to those of the body guard, Anthony, who'd been outside the door; who had heard everything, who knew what he'd done with_...to_...Carol earlier.

"I'll go." Erin said quickly, putting the tray onto the table beside Negan, and looking at Carson, "You have to finish this."

"I'll get there as soon as I can." Carson said, nodding. "Some of you, take care of these bodies and start working on disinfection procedures, I may need a cleaner space if I have to operate on her here."

"_Operate?" _Negan choked out.

"She could be losing the baby." Erin said, gathering supplies to take with her.

"I need to go to her—" Negan said anxiously, trying to rise again.

"I will sedate you if I have to!" Carson bit out, his face set and stern. As much as he might entertain saying fuck you to his Hippocratic Oath and just letting Negan bleed out, the end result of that would be a bullet in his own head. He was a doctor, not a martyr.

"Wade, get the doctor up to Carol now!" Negan barked, gesturing rapidly, "Rest of you fucks get to work! Dwight, get off your ass and help clean up the mess your bitch made."

Dwight's eyes shifted to Negan, his face a cipher's. He stood and shook his head in disgust, then walked unhurriedly out of the room, following Wade and Erin.

* * *

"They'll be coming soon." Daryl said, turning back from peering out the door peephole to look back at her, his bow at the ready.

"You heard shots—do you think there are more walkers?" Carol asked. She sat on the bed wearing a more modest maternity dress that she had found buried in the bags of clothing piled in a closet in the wives' quarters. She'd had it in her backpack, along with warm leggings, Daryl's flannel and her boots, planning to wear the clothes in their escape, which was now postponed. Daryl had slipped across the hall and retrieved it when the rest of the men fighting the walkers had left.

"Don't know." Daryl shrugged. "Wade didn't say anything about more."

"Because we scared the shit out of him with that blood—how's your hand?" Carol asked.

It had been her idea to stain the sheets beneath her and the dress with blood to make it appear as though she was spotting badly, indicating something wrong with the pregnancy. Daryl had sliced open his palm to provide the red stuff.

"Always ready to bleed for you, sweetheart." He gave her a little crooked smile. When she frowned at him he made a dismissive noise, flexing his grip against the big Band-Aid, "It ain't too deep. Stuff you put on it hurt worse."

She'd slathered it in triple antibiotic cream after first dousing it in rubbing alcohol from her back pack kit. They didn't need him getting an infection.

Daryl saw she was still frowning worriedly at him and he crossed the room in three long strides, sliding the bow to his back and before he could think better of it he leaned down and brought his lips down on hers in what was meant to be a quick comforting kiss, but his free hand closed around her nape, her lips too sweet to abandon as quickly as that kind of kiss should've required.

Carol's hands reached up and held his face, welcoming the deepening of the kiss, responding to him with warm ardor. To her his mouth felt beautiful, gentle and yet firm, comforting and yet full of the desire that flowed between them.

Then he tasted blood, all at once remembering she'd bitten through her bottom lip during the assault she'd just endured.

"I... sorry, I'm sorry. He just... he _hurt_ you... I shouldn't have..." Daryl murmured when he broke the kiss, looking ashamed, trying to pull away, but she held him still.

"_You never would."_ Carol said firmly, making him look into her eyes to see her trust in him.

"_Archer?"_ The name called out loudly and the pounding on the door demanding entrance were their signal to move apart, but Carol unhurriedly lifted her face to his, asking for another kiss.

The second was better than the first because he knew that she wanted it, wanted and welcomed his touch, his kiss, still trusted him despite his belief that he had failed her.

The pounding grew more insistent so they finally released one another and Daryl nodded down at her before he turned and headed for the door glancing back at her before he slid open the dead bolt to make sure she was ready.

"Showtime." She smiled a tiny grim smile at him and gave him an eye roll before she started breathing in short gasps, hyperventilating and grimacing as if in pain. It was so convincing he took a worried step back to her, and then she winked at him and nodded towards the door.

_Woman deserves an Oscar._ Daryl thought, shaking his head and setting his face into a mask of worry as he unlocked the barred door.

* * *

"Where in the cock sucking ass fucking hell are we supposed to get _that_?" Negan asked Carson, running his free hand through his swept back hair. His other arm was in a sling to keep the stitches over the bullet wound from opening up and he was pacing like a caged wolf, sweat pouring off of him.

Believing himself inured to pain Negan had refused painkillers, but under the guise of administering anti-biotics Carson had shot him up with some Demerol so he was flying pretty high. They wanted him off balance, not thinking clearly, his brilliant strategic mind focused only on getting help for Carol.

"I might... "Daryl said hesitatingly, playing his part in the plan, "I might know of a place."

"_Spit it out, Archer!"_ Wade said impatiently. He was feeling off balance by the last few days' events as well. Something had gone wrong between the boss and the woman they'd taken from Alexandria and Negan was boiling over with guilt. Anthony, Negan's main guard, had taken him aside while Negan hovered over the woman and told him what he'd heard through the door of the royal suite earlier. _Had the man he'd pledged himself on bended knee to kill and die for really forced himself on the small pregnant woman?_

"When we was heading for DC, one of our people, Bob, was a Navy medic." Daryl said, leaning on the side of the doorway to the other room where he could see both what was happening with Carol, who Erin was monitoring, and the rest of them discussing their next course of action in this office room next door.

"_And?"_ Negan said impatiently.

"He'd been stationed as a corpsman in the big military hospital there, Walter Reed in Bethesda, before the Turn—said it had everything you could ever need for medical care. Thought we'd make that one of our stops to resupply." Daryl finished.

"They cleared personnel out those military facilities pretty quickly—and hospitals tended to get overrun with the dead so that might've kept looters away from it." Wade nodded.

"And you think it would have the equipment and drugs you need to help her—help her hold on to the child?" Negan asked Carson.

"I honestly don't know. She's showing new signs of hypertension and stress I haven't seen before. Her BP is sky high and physically..." the Carson paused, giving Negan a censorious look.

"Clear the room; I need to have a word with the doctor." Negan said in a low deep voice. "Archer, stay with Carol. Wade, start picking men and vehicles for the mission."

"Sir?" Anthony asked, unsure if he was supposed to leave.

"Wait outside." Negan said coldly.

When everyone else had left Carson crossed his arms over his chest and took a deep breath before he spoke.

"In my physical examination of her, I found seventeen livid bruises on Carol's body, primarily on her breasts. In addition she had bitten through her lower lip and there was semen and saliva trace on her upper body and face." He gave the results clinically, but not dispassionately. Carol had asked him to do the equivalent of running a rape kit. Although controlled, his distaste and outrage at what she had suffered was clear.

"Someone attacked her." Negan murmured as if trying it on for size.

"No. _You_ did this." Carson said, his chin up, shaking his head slowly, staring the other man down. He had treated every one of Negan's wives for the results of his sexual excesses. He knew all of Negan's dirty little secrets.

Several expressions passed over the leader of Sanctuary's face like the stages of mourning—denial, anger, bargaining, depression and then finally acceptance of his guilt.

"Is she going to lose the baby?" Negan asked.

"As I told you before, if we were in a modern hospital with the right monitoring equipment and drugs to keep preterm labor at bay I would say no. If I have to deliver now? There's almost no chance the child would make it and I'd probably lose her too." Carson said.

It was all true except for the fact that Carol had come through Negan's assault without any major changes in her physical condition. She was stronger than she looked.

"I need to atone for what I've done to her." Negan said, nodding, his pupils wide, his voice soft and distant. "I need to ask for her forgiveness."

"Getting the medical supplies to save her baby will go a long way towards doing that." Carson said evenly, keeping him on task.

Negan nodded again and then abruptly strode through the door and opened it, surprising the guard who stepped back, and Daryl who was standing next to the patient bed where Carol was sitting up and sipping a bottle of water. Both stoic guardsmen came to attention, weapons at the ready.

"Stand down." Negan ordered. "I need to have a word with my wife." He pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed, Daryl taking up a position at the foot of the bed and Anthony next to the outer door.

"Erin said you were shot..." Carol said, infusing her voice with gentle concern before he could speak, reaching out her hand to him. From across the room tending to Kayla, Erin watched the little drama, while Carson stood in the office doorway.

"It's nothing." He said quietly, taking her hand in his. "I'm much more worried about you."

"I'm... I'm not as resilient as I used to be." Carol sighed, holding her free hand over her abdomen.

"You shouldn't have had to be. I behaved abominably to you. When I think that I might've endangered you and the child... after I promised you I would never..." he broke off and raised tear filled eyes to hers. "I'm sorry."

Carol looked down as if in deep thought, weighing his words.

"I'm going to go to a place Archer told us about—Walter Reed hospital—the one in Bethesda." Negan continued, speaking quickly, a note of pleading in his voice. "Carson says they have the things he needs to help you."

"Do you know the story? The Pool at Bethesda?" Carol asked, looking up him. Once upon a time she had been a very religious woman; she knew her bible as well as Hershel.

Negan frowned and shook his head no.

"It was a place in Jerusalem where sick people went looking for miraculous cures. Every once in a while an angel stirred the pool so whoever stepped into it first after that would be cured."

"Doesn't seem quite fair." Negan scoffed. "What about all the others who were waiting there?"

"Jesus didn't think so either—he cured a man there waiting to get into the pool. When the man asked him why he had cured him, a sinner, Jesus said, _"See, you have been made well. Sin no more, lest a worse thing come upon you."_

Negan narrowed his eyes at her, not quite sure if she meant him to glean a larger lesson from the story than the origin of the name of the city where the hospital was located.

"_Sin no more, lest a worse thing come upon you."_

He'd hurt Carol; bargained to use her body to slake his lust in return for leaving her friends alone. Then Sherry had choked to death on a fucking nut, killed sweet little Amber, he'd been fucking _shot_ and now he was in danger of losing Carol and the child. His head was spinning.

"_Sin no more, lest a worse thing come upon you."_

He stared at Carol who smiled at him expectantly and a bit sadly. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

"I'll save you." Negan promised, "I'll go to Bethesda myself and bring you back the god damn cure." And then he bent his head, touching his forehead to her hand.

Carol kept her head down, her eyes on Negan, but her mouth twitched up at the corner when she heard Daryl's soft sigh of relief.

* * *

AN: Cross your fingers, they're on their way!

_From the popular almonds, cashew and walnut to the lesser-known pine nut and lichee nut, tree nuts come in many shapes and sizes. Along with peanuts and shellfish tree nuts are one of the food allergies most often linked to anaphylaxis—a serious, rapid onset allergic reaction that may be fatal. A tree nut allergy usually lasts a life time; fewer than 10% of people with this allergy outgrow it. An allergy to tree nuts is one of the most common__food allergies. Tree nut oils, which may contain nut protein, can be found in lotions, hair care products and soaps; those allergic to tree nuts should avoid using these products. People with these allergies should carry injectable epinephrine (epipen) which can reverse the reaction. If not you can die within minutes._


	55. Chapter 55: Holding out for a Hero

_Preparations to make war on Negan begin at the Kingdom and Hilltop, while at Sanctuary Carl has a couple of surprise visitors and there are complications which could affect the escape plan._

* * *

Holding Out for a Hero

_Where have all the good men gone  
and where are all the gods?  
Where's the street-wise Hercules  
to fight the rising odds?  
Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?  
Late at night I toss and I turn and I dream of what I need..._

_I need a hero!  
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night.  
He's gotta be strong  
and he's gotta be fast  
and he's gotta be fresh from the fight!  
I need a hero!  
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light.  
He's gotta be sure  
and it's gotta be soon  
and he's gotta be larger than life._

_Somewhere after midnight  
in my wildest fantasy...  
Somewhere just beyond my reach  
there's someone reaching back for me.  
Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat  
it's gonna take a __superman to sweep me off my feet!  
_-Perf. Bonnie Tyler; Writers : Jim Steinman, Dean Pitchford

* * *

Kingdom

"It's from _Footloose._" Monroe said, smirking at Michonne who'd been frowning, trying to place the song that was blaring from the speakers, drawing the walkers in. They were standing on the roof of the building closest to the outer fences of the Kingdom looking down at the progress of the bizarre roundup.

Michonne's frown went even deeper.

"The movie? Kevin Bacon?" Jesus asked, sketching a little dance move from side to side.

Michonne raised an elegant eyebrow.

"They seem to prefer eighties pop." Ezekiel said from behind them, his deep bass rumble of a voice sounding perfectly serious. He came abreast of the two, fitting himself to Michonne's side and in a possessive gesture pushed her locks back off her shoulders so he could rest his arm there.

"Really? I'd have though _death metal_ would be more their style." Michonne deadpanned, but didn't move away from Ezekiel's embrace.

"Funny. You're a funny gal." Jesus said with a wink and a cheeky grin at Michonne.

Ezekiel gave a low chuckle.

"How many?' Ezekiel asked, gesturing at the herd with his other hand.

"About two hundred so far." Jesus said, looking out over the multitude of shambling corpses, "Give or take."

"Think we'll have enough, Monroe?" Rick asked with a frown, joining them to stand on Jesus' other side, very obviously ignoring Ezekiel and Michonne. She hadn't returned to her room last night—her bed was still made and her back pack missing when he went to get her for breakfast that morning—so he had to assume she'd found somewhere and _someone_ else with whom she preferred to spend the night.

"They'll keep filtering in all day." Jesus answered, "When we're ready to move there'll be enough."

"And Hilltop?" Ezekiel asked, looking over Michonne's head to meet Monroe's eyes. At six foot six he dwarfed both her and the other men.

Jesus had been able to repair the short wave radio that had previously allowed communication between the two communities after working on it for several hours last night. He'd relayed the plan to Maggie and her people early this morning.

"Maggie's promised they'll be at the rendezvous." Monroe assured them. "And Morgan has the long range walkie so he can let us know when it's time."

"We're really doing this." Michonne said pensively, staring down at the herd.

"You got a better idea, I'm listening." Rick said, finally acknowledging her presence, but keeping his eyes also fixed on the mass of walkers below.

"It will work," Ezekiel said, "It has to."

* * *

Sanctuary

"I want the snowplow at the head of the line, followed by the panel truck—" Negan ordered, using with Lucille to gesture at the line of vehicles.

"The supply truck is only loaded for one day out one day back?" Wade asked, sounding skeptical. Bethesda was twenty miles from Sanctuary, (what was left of a fenced industrial park and factory complex in Herndon, Virginia), through walker infested and frozen traffic snarled roads.

"It's a quick trip—we need that equipment _yesterday_." Negan told him. "We can last longer if need be on tight rations and scavenge."

"You're risking _ten _men's lives, including your own, for _one_ woman." Wade said, sighing in confusion. "That don't add up, boss." He'd followed Negan since the start of this; saw him as a pragmatic leader, one who used fear and violence to enforce his will. This show of what? Sentiment? Was something new and as such, disturbing.

"You're leaving something out of the equation." Negan said, his slight grimace of guilt not an expression his lieutenant saw very often, if at all.

"The baby?" Wade scoffed, "Sorry, sir, but you got four much younger tighter pussies in waiting to take your dick and then pop out a kid in nine months. This one ain't even _yours_."

"Carol is my wife and she carries my son." Negan said, his voice cold. "I'm honor bound to protect them both."

"That grey haired bitch has you _spun_!" Wade exclaimed, running his hand through his hair in exasperation. "What the hell did she do to you to make you ride off like you're some fucking white knight coming to the rescue?"

Negan stared at him with narrowed eyes.

"Are we still human beings, Wade?" Negan asked.

"What?" Wade frowned in confusion.

"Has civilization fallen? Are we beasts with no moral values? No conscience?" Negan pressed.

Wade wasn't sure what to say to that. He'd seen Negan do things that in the world that was would have had him labeled a dangerous criminal, a warlord, even a psychopath.

"If so why are we doing _any_ of this? Why try to gather together and keep people safe?" Negan asked. He gestured with Lucille at the men preparing the vehicles. "You, me and these men—men like Archer—we'd survive out there just fine roaming the wilds, taking and using whatever and whoever we wanted like the Wolves. But we're _not._ We're here, trying to protect the ones that can't, like Carol and Carson and those girls so this _isn't _the end of everything. Without more babies we're dead in the water, humanity _ends,_ Wade."

"So you're saying we're doing this because you're trying to save human _civilization_?" Wade asked, frowning, trying to decide if Negan was serious or full of shit. He'd always thought the man a brilliant strategist, but about as deep as a mud puddle, driven by his base desires, not some philosophical need to preserve mankind.

"Pretty god damn fucking heroic, ain't it?" Negan said fiercely, jutting his chin out and nodding. "Now listen up, I got somethin' I need you to do for me..."

* * *

"You shouldn't be here!" Carl hissed, pulling the girl inside and shutting the door of the shipping container as quietly as he could. He'd thought the soft knock was Dwight returning—he was overdue to bring his breakfast—and had been shocked to find Enid there instead, her dark hoodie pulled low to hide her face.

"No one saw me." Enid scoffed and then grinned up at him half bold, half shy.

Carl realized they were in almost the exact same position they'd been that day in the forest soon after they'd first met and he'd followed her over the wall; their bodies almost touching, his hand on her wrist.

Enid threw her arms around him, pressing them tightly together, her lips grazing his neck, making him shiver.

Carl let himself relax infinitesimally, enough to enjoy the feel of her, soft and strong and vital as he closed his arms around her.

"I can't believe you came after us." Enid said, resting her head on his shoulder.

Carl didn't know what to say to that. He hadn't really stopped to think very far ahead when the opportunity to slip unseen under the back of the Saviors' truck presented itself.

"Just... it's just what we do." he stammered, repeating what he'd heard his dad and the others so often say.

"You think the plan will work?" Enid asked him, her breath warm on his collarbone, the flowery smell of her hair sweet in his nose.

Carl was embarrassed, in contrast to her, he knew he stunk. It'd been days since he'd had water to wash with and Dwight hadn't exactly been forthcoming with deodorant or toothpaste either. He was glad the women had at least been able to have that, imagining it was Carol's doing.

"Yeah. We've gotten outa worse scrapes, right?" he reminded her.

"Maybe they'll let me work in the kitchens..." Enid smiled, looking up at him, "I'm excellent at _special_ pastry recipes."

"I remember." Carl grinned back. "Bet Negan would _love_ your Dutch apple pie."

They stared at each other, sharing the smile, sharing the memory. Enid's eyes darted down to Carl's mouth and then quickly back up to his eyes and saw that they widened with the knowledge that she wanted him to _kiss_ her.

Carl leaned closer and touched his lips to hers, a gentle tentative kiss. She returned it, slipping her hands up into the long hair at his nape. His hands rested lightly on her shoulder blades to keep her close.

Neither of them noticed when the door to the container was pushed open by one of the men Wade had sent to gather their supplies for the trip to Bethesda.

"Now what do we have _here_?" the man drawled, pulling his gun and pointing it at them, "The junior _missus_ is outa her pen... and she gotta little boyfriend all hidden up in a _love_ nest."

Carl whirled, putting Enid behind him, bringing up his knife defensively.

"Don't be a hero, boy." the man said, shaking his head. "Hey Wade!" he yelled, turning his head slightly so he could yell out the door, "Come lookie what we got here!"

Instead of Wade, Dwight appeared behind him, his face puffy, eyes swollen and red, a look of malice on his face.

"Time to heat up the old iron! Got a little Romeo and Juliet action happenin' in here." the other man cackled and then a look of confusion crossed his face before he lost control of his body, his hands going limp, his gun clattering to the floor. A wet spreading stain appeared at his pants crotch and then he pitched forward, a Bowie knife protruding from the base of his skull where Dwight had just severed his spine.

"You always were an asshole, Jed." Dwight said, looking down at the man with distaste, shutting the door behind him, locking it and then leaning over to pull out the knife, wiping it clean on the man's shirt and picking up the pistol.

Enid came out from behind Carl and looked down at the dead man, her face blank.

"I told you to always keep the fucking door locked!" Dwight railed at Carl in a hard low voice, "You too busy thinking with your hormones to remember that?"

Carl blushed. That was exactly what had happened.

"What are we going to do now?" Enid asked, all practicality again. "Someone will come looking for him."

"Not necessarily." Dwight said, bending down again to go through Jed's pockets. Finding a couple of candy bars he tossed them at the kids who both caught them. "People slip away all the time." The silver trench knife in a sheath on his belt came next. He handed it to Enid and then removed the belt and sheath, giving them over as well.

She recognized it as Carol's and promised herself she'd return it to her as soon as she could.

"Say good bye to your boyfriend." Dwight told Enid, "Jed may not be missed, but _you_ will."

"What about the body?" Carl asked, looking down at Jed, the man's surprised eyes still open and staring.

"He's your new _roommate_ until Negan and the rest leave." Dwight told him, adding impatiently to Enid, "Hurry up, girl."

* * *

"We have a problem." Erin said, entering the infirmary after Daryl had first determined it was her.

Carol looked up, frowning. More problems they didn't need. She was already going stir crazy with everyone hovering over her in here and just wanted to go back to... well, she just wanted to go somewhere safe and quiet and private to be alone with Daryl.

She felt horribly selfish thinking it; knew that there were far more important things she should be worrying about, but she felt closer to him now than she had since he'd returned from the Wolves. His kisses were like they used to be, full of longing and need, full of love and desire without the tentativeness and fear of intimacy, of inadequacy that had plagued them as they'd tried to find their way back to each other.

She wanted to be free to hold his hand, to fall asleep in his arms, to just be together without worrying about anything else. So much of their lives since they met had been one terrible thing after another with a few short breaks in between to catch their breaths. In Alexandria they had finally gotten to the place where they could admit their feelings to one another and had just started their life together when it all fell apart again. First the Wolves and now Negan and the Saviors... it was as if the universe was somehow _entertained_ by their suffering...

She found herself watching him in much the same way as she had the winter on the road after the Farm was lost, admiring his strength and simple honest bravery. He was as smart as Rick, as good at strategy as Glenn, as expert at weapons as Michonne, but he never sought leadership. Daryl excelled at support: tracking, hunting, killing walkers; but shrugged off praise for any of it and avoided showing his emotions at all costs. To those who didn't know him he seemed practically nonverbal, this larger than life totally physical being, his hard body honed like his knife to sharp curved perfection.

As his loyalty to the group grew stronger she was the one who'd taken the time to draw him out, talk to him, tease him, and remind him that he belonged. He respected and followed Rick as a leader, but she was the one who'd made him realize he was a vital part of a _family. _

What they'd had together these last months in Alexandria had been the culmination of the process of overcoming their pasts, using what their struggles had given them to survive and build a life, to find love and create their _own_ family. Her hand ghosted over the swell of her abdomen and she sighed pensively.

Daryl stepped back to let Erin pass, frowning as he closed and locked the door behind her.

"It's Enid—she's gone." Erin told them.

"Negan?" Carol asked worriedly. Despite his pledge to honor their bargain, with Amber and Sherry dead and Kayla and she injured and unable to fulfill their conjugal obligations, she feared Negan would turn to his other "wives in waiting"—Erin, Tara, Rosita or Enid.

"I don't think so—Rosita said she was gone when they woke up this morning—Negan's been working on the preparations for the trip, he hasn't been in to see them today. I'm the only visitor they had." Erin told them.

"Carl—she went to Carl." Daryl said, huffing out an exasperated breath and looking over at Carol.

"What?" Carson asked, frowning at them.

"How does she know where Dwight has him stashed?" Erin asked. Dwight hadn't wanted anyone except Daryl to know where the boy was hidden so they couldn't be made to tell if Negan questioned them.

"Carl probably told her so she wouldn't worry." Daryl said, "God damned kids..." he growled.

"I think it's sweet." Kayla murmured in her warm morphine haze. "Young love..."

"I'm gonna kick both their asses if they fuck up our plans to get the hell outa here just so they can... can... grope n' suck face in a storage container!" Daryl fumed.

It really wasn't funny. It was a serious life and death situation. But hearing Daryl Dixon say "grope n' suck face" made them all grin, and Kayla dissolved into giggles.

"I'll go find Dwight." Carson said, still smiling, heading for the door, but when he opened it, Wade was there, and he didn't look happy.

"Excuse me, I'm needed elsewhere." Carson said, trying to duck past the bigger man.

"Not so fast doc, we got a problem." Wade said, unmoving.

"If it's medical Dr. Yang is perfectly capable of handling it." Carson said impatiently.

"If you say so." Wade nodded, stepping back so the doctor could pass. As Carson left, Negan's number two moved into the room followed by two other burly armed men. "Get your things together, lady doc."

"Injury? Illness?" Erin asked, needing to know what to grab to take with her.

"Naw—boss decided we should be takin' one a' you doctors along with us to make sure we bring the right stuff back for his missus." Wade said, "So grab whatever you need for the road from here and then we'll escort you to your room to pack your dainties."

Erin exchanged a panicked look with Carol.

"But I need her _here_." Carol said sharply.

"I've been her doctor from the start of her pregnancy—I know her case I—" Erin argued.

"She'll still have Carson—look, this ain't up for debate. Negan's orders. I bring back a doctor for ride along on the mission of mercy and tag, she's it." He said. When she opened her mouth to argue more he strode over to her, grabbed her upper arm and started dragging her to the door.

* * *

_AN: I always thought that song would be a great "Daryl Dixon's Greatest Moments" video soundtrack. Motorcycle riding, crossbow shooting, walker killin', Carol carrying, flirting &amp; hugging, with lots of bicep shots..._

_Negan is an enigma, isn't he? Leave it to him to unknowingly toss a wrench in their escape plans!_

_A little pissy jealous Rick, a little Carl/Enid puppy love, a little Carol mooning over Daryl-who says romance is dead?_

_Thanks for reading!_


	56. Chapter 56: A Fire in my Heart

_This chapter starts immediately after the previous one, as Wade attempts to take Dr. Yang on the run to Bethesda under protest from Carol and the others._

* * *

A Fire in my Heart

_There's a fire starting in my heart  
reaching a fever pitch, it's bringing me out the dark.  
Finally I can see you crystal clear.  
Go ahead and sell me out and I'll lay your shit bare.  
See how I leave with every piece of you.  
Don't underestimate the things that I will do.  
_\- Adele: _Rolling in the Deep_

* * *

"_Wade! No!"_ Carol cried, her eyes going to Daryl. She would not lose Erin like this.

Daryl stepped in front of Wade, the two guards and Erin, blocking the exit.

"Out of my way, Archer, this ain't none of your concern." Wade said tightly, keeping his grip on Erin's arm.

"_She_ is." Daryl said, jerking his chin towards Carol, "You want her upset? Send her pressure through the roof? You think the boss is gonna like hearing your stupid ass made her lose the kid? What do you think he'll do to you'all if that happens?" he let his narrow eyed gaze sweep over all three men.

They all shared an uneasy look.

Carol hated the thought of leaving Carson behind as well, but as long as he kept his cool and their confidences, he would be much safer here with the Saviors when Negan got back and discovered the escape.

"_Please _Wade." Carol asked, infusing her voice with just the right amount of teary anguish.

Wade pursed his lips as he stared back at her, his dislike clear. He obviously didn't like the power Carol held over his boss, but he also knew that if anything he did caused her or the baby harm Negan would—literally—have his head.

"I don't give a shit which one we take." he finally said, releasing Erin and giving her an exasperated shove that almost knocked her down. "Go find Carson and get his ass on the Humvee in fifteen minutes or I'll drill you a new asshole." he sniped at the guards, who hot-footed it out of there in search of the other physician.

"Thank you." Carol said, wiping at her eyes and looking gratefully at Wade and then settling on Daryl briefly before sliding her eyes away and holding out her hand to Erin with a trembling smile.

Working as Negan's right hand for the last two years had taught Wade the most important lessons he'd ever learned, be hyper-observant and trust _no one_. Watching the interplay between the bowman and the gray haired woman he was suddenly struck by how carefully Carol avoided looking at the man for longer than a few seconds at a time, forcing her gaze away from him, yet it always seemed to return there.

"Got some last instructions for Archer." Wade said gruffly, pointing Daryl out the door. "Your ears only."

"Can't leave her." Daryl protested.

"She's locked up tight in here; only one way in; just be out in the hall. Move it." Wade ordered, forcing Daryl to comply. As soon as the door was closed the big man shoved Daryl against the wall, holding him there with a tight fisted grip on his vest over his chest and leaning close.

"You want her?" Wade whispered roughly right into Daryl's ear, "You're gonna have to kill him or he will never stop comin' after you."

"Or _you_ could take the shot." Daryl replied, poker faced, not denying his interest in Carol.

"Be Brutus?" Wade asked sarcastically, but then loosened his grip on Daryl and stepped back, tilting his head to the side as though sizing up the other man. "Not like I haven't thought about it."

"What stopped you?" Daryl asked. A coup would surely solve all their problems. "He's a monster; insane..."

"Probably... but he keeps this place going. Food, water, shelter, safety—they're hard things to come by these days." Wade said, giving a little shrug.

"Seems like it's up and running now." Daryl said, his gaze looking left and right and then nodding, "One figurehead's as good as another."

Wade considered that. Though Negan made the "big" decisions about who they attacked and took tribute from, the day to day running of the place fell to his seconds, rotated out on patrol periodically to keep any of them from gaining too big a loyal following. How many people would back _him_ if he offed the boss?

"Is there a problem, boys?" Negan asked from behind them, his look assessing.

Recovering quickly, Wade blanked his face and turned to face the leader of Sanctuary.

"Just makin' sure Archer understood the shit storm that will rain down on him if anything happens to your family, sir." Wade said easily and then turned back to Daryl, giving him a rough shove, making him stumble back. "Best get back to it now."

Daryl bristled but recovered his feet and nodded, visibly fighting the retort that wanted to escape his lips.

"Is she awake?" Negan asked Daryl, who nodded again. Negan gave him a tight smile and turned away, heading into the Infirmary to see Carol.

When his eyes met Wade's, Daryl's held a questioning look. Wade gave him a non-committal movement of his head that said he would consider what they had discussed. Then something behind Daryl caught his attention.

"What she doing _out_?" Wade said, looking over Daryl's shoulder.

Coming towards them were Dwight, the two guards he had sent to find Carson, and the doctor himself, who was with them along with Enid, pale and holding her side. When she stumbled the doctor tightened his arm around her, holding her up.

"Think it's her appendix." Dwight said. "Heard her squealin' and the others yellin' when I walked by their room." They'd had to think of an excuse quickly when they'd been intercepted just before he could get her back there after her little secret expedition to find Carl.

Daryl came forward swiftly and picked up the girl, cradling her to his chest and carrying her into the Infirmary. Negan was seated on Carol's bed, holding her hand and leaning in for a goodbye kiss while Erin looked on with disgust.

"Put her there," Carson said, pointing to one of the exam tables.

"What's wrong?" Negan said, releasing Carol's hand and rising.

"Enid?" Carol asked, her voice filled with concern.

"What does it look like? She's sick." Dwight said, while Daryl lay the teenager down.

"_Hurts... help me..."_ Enid whimpered and curled in on herself.

"I asked you what was wrong with her!" Negan thundered, demanding Carson answer him.

"Could be her appendix, could be an ovarian cyst, could be an ectopic pregnancy, could be food poisoning, could be lots of things. I won't know until I can examine her more closely, so everyone who doesn't have to be here for a medical reason, get the hell out!" Carson ordered.

"Did you say _pregnancy_?" Negan said, coming right up next to the table and pushing Carson away from Enid, he took her by the arms. "Are you _pregnant_, girl?"

"If I am then it's the second coming..." Enid bit out sarcastically and then doubled over and threw up, barely missing his shoes.

"_Fuck!" _ Negan released her and danced back, looking disgusted.

"I said that was one of _many_ possibilities for what is wrong with her!" Carson barked forcefully, stepping on the brake release and rolling the table away from the mess so he could start examining Enid. He placed a thermometer on her forehead and lifted her shirt to palpate her abdomen, making the girl suppress a scream and start to cry. He did her blood pressure next and after enough time had passed he checked her temp and swore.

"Dr. Yang?" Carson said, "You know anything about anesthesia?"

"Enough." Erin replied. "I did part of my residency in anesthesiology."

"If we need to prep her for surgery—I'll need you to keep her under—then-" Carson began.

"_Stop!"_ Negan demanded, forcing everyone's eyes to him.

"I don't have time for this." Carson said, gesturing at Enid, "_She_ doesn't have time for this."

"We have a _mission._ I need a doctor on it." Negan said, narrowing his eyes.

"I need Erin _here_." Carson said, not backing down.

"Please... please let them _help _her." Carol said, pleading with Negan, who looked over at her, angry at the potential delay in his plans.

"How long will it take?" Negan asked, looking back and forth between Carol and Enid.

"As long as it takes!" Carson said, exasperated, "I don't know what I'll find when I get in there."

Still Negan hesitated, weighing his options.

"Look, I've told you what you need to get, made you lists of every drug, piece of equipment and instrument that could be useful. You don't need one of us with you, you just need to get there and get back as soon as possible before something else goes Fubar." Carson said impatiently. "I need Yang here with me to assist with the surgery and I need to start _now_."

After another minute or two of staring at Enid writhing on the table in pain and Carol, pale and tearful, Negan sniffed and blew out a world weary sigh.

"When I get back I expect to see some grateful naked wives throwing themselves at my feet in thanks." he said petulantly to the room at large and then signaled to his guards, Dwight and Wade that they were leaving. Taking Lucille from the man who had been holding 'her' Negan stopped in front of Daryl, pointing the bat at him meaningfully.

Daryl met Negan's eyes and gave a small dip of his chin to acknowledge the warning. Carol and the child were his responsibility. Fuck it up and he died.

"Let's roll." Negan said and he and his men stalked out of the room. Last out was Wade, who exchanged an intense look with Daryl before closing the door behind them.

"Can I get up now?" the voice of a bored teenager sounded from the exam table.

"_Enid?"_ Carol said, shocked, looking over at the girl, as did Erin, Daryl and Kayla.

"Archer? Any guards outside?"Carson asked in a stage whisper, and then added more loudly when the bowman didn't seem to be paying attention to him,_ "Archer!"_

Dragging his eyes away from Enid, Daryl opened the peephole cover over the steel reinforced door to check.

"No one in the hall." he grunted and then turned his eyes back to the girl and the doctor standing in front of her at the table.

Enid sat up looking quite cocky, pushing her sweaty hair back off her face.

"You were fakin'."Daryl rumbled disapprovingly.

"Carol's not the only one who knows how to play Negan." Enid said, looking over at the older woman with a smug smile, clearly proud of her actions.

"It's not a _game_, Enid." Carol said, her voice icy stern. "You risked us all sneaking out to see Carl."

"And if I hadn't, Carson or Erin would be leaving right now!" Enid said defiantly, pointing at the doctors.

"It was her idea." Carson admitted, "When the guards told us I had to go with them to Bethesda she reacted instantly, doubled over like she was in pain—I just took it from there."

"Almost got the asshole with the puke too." Enid grinned, unrepentant.

Daryl huffed out a reluctant laugh while Carol frowned and sighed.

"So what's our time table now?" Erin asked, back to business.

"By nightfall Negan will be far enough down the road to risk signaling Aaron." Daryl said. "Dwight gets us transport; we get Carl, Rosita and Tara and get our asses outa here." he looked to Carol for confirmation, but she still looked uneasy.

* * *

When they reached the hall way turn into the next corridor, Negan addressed Dwight.

"Make sure the back-up tanks are full on all of the vehicles; last thing I want is for us to get stuck on the way back because we ran out of fuel." he ordered.

Dwight looked like he might balk at the command, but nodded sullenly and jogged on ahead, heading for the motor pool, taking a stairway down.

"Dwight up to a mission?" Negan asked Wade as they continued to walk back towards his quarters.

"You're taking him with us to Bethesda?" Wade returned, unsure of the wisdom of that idea. Dwight was always a bit twitchy, but after Sherry, he was walking a thin edge.

"Just him, not _you_." Negan said. "You're not going—I have another job for you."

"Another?"

"You're going to take twenty men and head to Hilltop." Negan ordered.

"We're not due for a tribute run for another week." Wade said, puzzled.

"Not a tribute run." Negan shook his head.

"Then why?"

"They have something I need. Some_one_... and Gregory won't give you any trouble." Negan said dismissively.

"_Someone?" _

"I want the other Doctor Carson; for insurance." Negan told him. Having his brother here would sooth _their_ Carson's ruffled feathers and make the woman doctor from Alexandria more expendable if need be.

"So why do I need twenty men?" Wade asked. That would leave them shorthanded here at Sanctuary, not seriously, but enough to cause him concern.

"Send five back here with the doctor and take the rest to Alexandria."Negan continued. "Scouts reported it's been abandoned—survivors headed for Hilltop. I want you to fix the gate, clear it of geeks and claim it."

"You settin' up a colony or moving us all there?" Wade asked, wondering if he intended to put someone else in charge of the walled town with the deluxe accommodations or take it as his new base.

"I want to show them the benefits of cooperating with me." Negan said, "They can have their little Pleasantville back if they accept my rule."

"And their women?" Wade asked; keeping them would be a bone of contention for the ASZ leader. He knew from what the men who had gone on the run had told him that at least two of the ones Negan had taken belonged to someone in Alexandria.

"My wives? Women will do what they must to protect those they love." Negan told him with a confident expression.

Wade realized that was how he'd assure everyone's cooperation. The women would tell anyone who asked that they 'freely' accepted him as their husband and in return he wouldn't kill everyone they cared about. So much for his claim he only wanted ass that was _willing..._he used a pretty slippery slope definition of the term.

"One of the other wives—the hot Hispanic piece—Carol told me she's a medic; a nurse." Negan said to Wade, who nodded. "Go get her. She's coming with me."

"Rosita?" Surprised, Wade blinked and stared a few seconds before he finally nodded.

"That's the one." Negan said, smiling in satisfaction. "Keep it quiet—hood her—no one else needs to know. A little alone time together on our mission of mercy to save her friend and she'll see the wisdom in _kneeling_." his double entendre made obvious by the lustful smile on his lips.

Wade raised an eyebrow as he side-eyed his boss at the reminder that he should never underestimate the depravity, ruthlessness and cunning of Negan's mind. He might pay lip service to respecting his wives and restarting civilization, but he'd always find a way to get what he wanted from them, just like he did with everyone else.

"_Are we clear?" _Negan said when he saw the look.

"Crystal clear, yes sir." Wade said in a clipped voice.

"The Bethesda group leaves within the hour. Take your force out as soon as possible, bleed it out in four groups of five and regroup out of sight of the compound. Bill it as a routine patrol relief." Negan ordered as they reached his door, where they would have to part ways. He turned to his second, laying Lucille on the man's shoulder. "I'm counting on you, Wade."

"_Yes sir."_ his second repeated more forcefully and then held his breath until Negan lifted the bat away and continued on into his chambers.

As he headed to get the woman, Wade thought again about what Archer had asked him. To overthrow Negan would take someone with cunning equal to or even greater than what the Sanctuary leader possessed; someone with a burning hatred in his heart for the man; someone from whom he had taken what they loved most.

With every move he made, Negan was growing the list...

* * *

AN: They kept Carson and Erin, but don't know that they just lost Dwight and Rosita instead. Carol gave Negan information when she was trying to show the women's value beyond just being sexual vessels, but he turned it around on her and used it as way to get Rosita alone and vulnerable. He hasn't broken his promise to Carol because he didn't make _her_ chose which wife he'd have-in his mind it'll be _Rosita's_ choice.

Slippery evil son of a bitch isn't he?


	57. Chapter 57: In the Narrows

_Okay. After re-watching S1&amp;2, I have recovered some of my Caryl feels. They so carefully paralleled the two characters in those seasons that it had to have been planned. I also made some new (to me) Cherokee Rose sightings: Carol's shirt in S1 and the lace crochet coverlet on the couch in Hershel's house in S2 (most visible in "Judge, Jury Executioner,") both had Cherokee style roses in their pattern. I also saw all the longing shy glances &amp; Carol's tears after telling Daryl "I can't lose you too." It was a real, we weren't imagining it, no matter how they may be trying to retcon &amp; deny the connection this season._

_I still don't know if I will watch the show any more, but I do want to finish my WIPs for you. This story has been the one most requested, so I thought I'd start with it. I was pleased that it came pretty easily today, so I'm hopeful that will continue with the others,_

_A bit of angst ahead for our characters though...sorry!_

* * *

_**In the Narrows**_

_The place where the bank of the river narrows always portends treacherous rapids ahead._

* * *

"Is that the signal?" Grayson asked nervously.

"It is..." Aaron answered, his stomach somersaulting with a flip of anxiety.

"How far out are Rick and the rest?" Gray pressed.

"Probably fifteen or twenty minutes or so." Morgan said, uneasily turning the walkie over and over in his hands, "It's gonna be close."

"Let's get ready."Aaron said, unsheathing his knife, unrolling his poncho and looking grimly over at the bodies of the walkers laid out at the edges of camp.

"You really think this is goin' to work?" Gray asked, watching Aaron.

"This is the plan." Morgan shrugged, "Everything goes the way it's supposed to we got a shot."

"When has anything ever all gone the way it's supposed to..." Grayson muttered.

"We're in the narrows now..." Aaron sighed.

There was no reason to respond to the truth, so all three worked on the preparations to fulfill their part of the plan in silence.

* * *

"You've done this a lot?" Michonne asked Ezekiel, leaning forward, her eyes rising again to the rear view mirror of the big tow truck in which they rode.

"It's like the Wild West around here sometimes—if they start to bunch up around the fences it's the best way to clear them—you don't want to waste the ammo or the man power to just put them down and this way you don't have to deal with all the bodies. Usually we lead 'em over a cliff and then toss some Molotov's down to burn what ends up at the bottom."

It was ingenious really; if they'd have had this system at the prison they might've been able to give themselves enough breathing room to put up real walls instead of just wire fences.

The process was like a cattle round up. The herd was attracted by loud music and lights in several trucks like the one on which they were riding, funneled along a path created by old cars and tall metal sheeting fences that took them to the edge of an abandoned gravel quarry. People on horses rode drag, silently watching for stragglers or break-a-ways. This time however, the path they were taking was not to oblivion, but to another destination.

"The timing has to be just right on this." Michonne said, sounding edgy.

"_Usually_ I have _great_ timing..." Ezekiel said with a knowing smile, bringing Michonne's eyes over to him.

She raised a questioning eyebrow.

"How long you been in love with him?" the Kingdom leader asked.

Michonne's face blanked and she sat back against the bench seat staring straight ahead.

"He hooked up with someone else?" Ezekiel surmised. "One of those unrequited deals?"

When he'd claimed her this morning as his shotgun rider, Ezekiel had seen how Michonne's eyes went to Rick, looking for him to object, but the other man's face just went narrow eyed and cold before he shrugged and walked away. Rick had chosen instead to ride drag with Jesus, a more dangerous task lacking the protection of a metal cage like the vehicle in which they were riding, though both rider and horse were smeared in walker gut camo.

Michonne remained silent.

"I mean there's got to be a reason you were able to resist my charms last night." Ezekiel continued, his bass voice rumbling with self pitying amusement.

He'd left her to enjoy the luxuries of his chambers, including a hot bath, rather than the more Spartan quarters she'd been assigned, while he went to spend the night with his sometime bed partner, a discrete and accommodating widow who had no interest in anything more than an energetic fuck as often as the mood struck. She'd smiled knowingly when he'd shown up at her door, cluing him in to the way the surly visitor with Jesus had acted at dinner.

"Or does Mr. Grimes _always _get drunk and threaten to take out the leader of the group you're trying to negotiate with if he harms one lock on your beautiful head?" Ezekiel asked, staring at her smugly.

"Keep your eyes on the road." Michonne said in an ugly monotone, making Ezekiel laugh and turn his eyes back to the highway in front of them.

* * *

"We can't stop. The plan is in motion." Daryl said, but regret underlined his stubborn tone.

"We can't leave without her!" Tara protested, but Erin gripped her arm more tightly, holding her back and trying to quiet her.

"I'm sorry, Tara, but we don't have a choice." Erin said, "This is our only chance to get out of here."

"You know what he'll do to her when he gets back if we're not here!" Tara said, anguished.

"If I stay..." Carol began, but Daryl was shaking his head no before she got any more words out.

"We're leaving. All of us. _Now._ End of discussion." Daryl ordered. There was no way he was letting Carol sacrifice herself again.

"Fuck you, Dixon! You may not give a shit about Rosita, but I do!" Tara blasted him.

"We'll get her back, Tara. He'll be out on the road, cut off from his base, more vulnerable. We'll meet back up with our people and those at Hilltop and we can go after Rosita then, right?" Enid looked at Daryl for confirmation, pleading with him to give them some hope so Tara would agree to leave.

Daryl nodded curtly. It could go like that...if they were lucky...

"Dwight will protect her." Carson said, trying to be reassuring. That was how they knew Rosita was with Negan. In a panic, Dwight had left a scrawled note with Carl explaining that he was being forced to go on the run with Negan and that Rosita was being brought along as a medic.

They'd taken her from the room she shared with Tara and Enid last night claiming it was to see Carol, but when she hadn't returned when Carson and Erin had come to get them for the escape they knew something was wrong.

Negan, Wade and the others had left a few hours ago and now, at twilight, Daryl had signaled Aaron, which meant they had a half an hour to make their move.

"We don't have time for this; we need to get to the shipping container, get your boy and head for the breach." Kayla reminded them, her lack of ties to any of them making her much more pragmatic.

"She's right." Carol agreed reluctantly, lifting her Uzi and concealing it under the cloth cape she wore, "Is everyone ready?"

They were all similarly armed, the weapons an important part of their disguises, including ball caps and bulky clothing which doubled as camouflage. Tara, Enid, Erin and Kayla were dressed as men, posing as guards for Carol and Carson alongside Daryl. A few more rough looking men would draw little notice, while any women wandering around free would've brought unneeded attention to them.

Erin pulled her stocking cap down over her forehead and looked meaningfully at Tara who reluctantly adjusted her ball cap, lowering the brim to more effectively hide her features, already partially obscured behind dirt and a fake set of long sideburns fashioned from the trimmed ends of her own hair.

"Nobody talks except for Carol, Carson or me." Daryl rasped out the reminder "Stay close."

They made their way from the Infirmary as quickly as they dared, passing a few people, but they were helped by the timing; most everyone else was at supper in the communal dining rooms. Carson unlocked the shipping container and Carl was ready, passing out blankets converted to ponchos, helping them get ready for the next part of the plan.

* * *

_**Alexandria, Night Watch on the ramparts, eleven months ago, after Pete, but before the Wolves**_

"When they bunch up like that?" Carol said, indicating the main gate with a nod of her head. "Reminds me of the prison."

"Yeah. How they'd wait for it to open; like ringin' the dinner bell." Michonne said, pointing her sniper rifle at the ten or so walkers scratching at the gate below them. Both of them chuckled darkly at that.

The two women had night watch together tonight, neither of them able to sleep much. Daryl was out with Aaron on a recruiting trip and having him gone made Carol restless.

Michonne seemed out of sorts for some reason, but hadn't showed any signs of wanting to discuss why so Carol left it alone. They stood for awhile in companionable silence, Michonne using the silenced rifle to pick off the walkers one by one until Carol motioned that she wanted a go and the other woman handed over the gun to her.

"You and Daryl... it's a good thing..." Michonne finally said, breaking the silence.

"I think so." Carol said with a note of dry amusement, taking aim at a walker's head, wondering where this was coming from. She considered the swords-woman family, but they'd never really talked about anything terribly personal before.

"You're good together; I mean... you always were..." Michonne continued, "Back there, before it all fell apart." she glanced quickly at Carol, worried that reminding her of what had happened at the prison had overstepped.

"I should've talked to him about it." Carol said, taking out the walker, the recoil popping her shoulder back, the shell popping out with a clink onto the platform floor.

"Karen and David." Michonne said.

Carol took aim at another walker, carefully lining it up in her sight, breathing in before squeezing off another deadly accurate shot. The walker dropped like a stone, knocking into the only other one left who stumbled against the fence in confusion.

"He knew something was wrong; stopped in the hall after the meeting to check on me." Carol said, preparing to take the last shot, "I didn't want to... I don't want anyone else to have to bear the burden of the decision."

"You were protecting him." Michonne said, a bit of wonder in her voice. She'd though Carol hadn't told Daryl what she was planning because she'd been afraid he would try to stop her, but she'd been worried he would try to _help_ her.

"Daryl's a good man." Carol said, watching the final walker climb back to its feet and head away from the gate, its interest caught by something down the road. She lowered the rifle and handed it back to Michonne, letting her decide whether to put it down or let it go.

Michonne took the gun and shouldered it, watching the walker wander away, down the center line.

"So's Rick." Carol said, watching to see Michonne's reaction. "When he takes his head out of his ass."

That drew a hearty chuckle from Michonne and she raised her half gloved hand to her mouth to hide her wide white smile when it threatened to bloom into an all out laugh.

"You care about him," Carol said. She knew seeing Rick's attentions to Jessie had been something they'd all had their reservations about, but she thought it had been even harder for Michonne.

"I care about Carl and Judith." Michonne said evenly, refusing to be drawn in to a discussion of her feelings one way or another about Rick Grimes.

"He cares about _you_, we've all seen it." Carol said quietly. "He_ listens_ to you—that's why we're here, in this place." They'd heard her insistence to Rick that they take the chance that what Aaron was telling them was the truth, that this could be a place where Carl and Judith could have a chance to grow up.

Whatever reply Michonne was going to make, it was forestalled by the distant whine of a motorcycle engine. Raising the rifle, Michonne took out the now distant walker, clearing the path home for Daryl and Aaron.

Carol lifted the walkie talkie off her belt and clicked it on.

"You comin' in hot?" she asked, wanting to be prepared if they were being pursued or had problems.

"Nah, just us." Daryl replied.

"Got it." Carol said with a relieved smile.

"You on watch?" Daryl asked

"Yep." Carol said.

"_Good."_ Daryl said, and the rumble of anticipation in his voice gave her shivers.

Michonne looked over at Carol, meeting her eyes and seeing the blush that stained her throat and the smile she was trying hard to keep under control.

"Go ahead, I got this." Michonne said, smiling back, knowing Carol wanted to be down opening the gate when Daryl arrived.

"Thank you." Carol said, turning to go, but stopping and turning back, putting her hand tentatively on Michonne's arm, "You ever need to talk..."

Michonne's smile dimmed and faded, but she nodded.

Carol released her and then ran down the steps, there when Daryl rode his bike through. He only stopped long enough to let her jump on the back, wrapping her arms around his torso, one hand grasping onto hers to make sure she was settled and then both back on the handle bars so he could take her home.

* * *

_**Present Day, Sanctuary**_

"Don't you let go of me, you hear?" Daryl said, making sure Carol's fingers were securely gripping the rope that was tied around his waist linking her to him. He'd wanted to literally tie her to him, but worried that if he went down he'd take her along with him. This way she could release if she needed to and have her hands free for weapons. If the line went slack he'd know to turn back for her.

"When have I ever?" she said, tilting her head at him and they shared a gentle smile of understanding.

"All right. Everyone set?" Daryl asked, taking a look at the rest of the group, each of them tethered to at least one other person.

"I can see them" Carl said from his place closest to the fence, and then he took hold of Enid's hand to reassure her. The girl took a deep breath and gave him a fierce smile.

"I can't fucking believe we're doing this." Carson said, his eyes wide with apprehension.

"I've learned that nothing this group does is by half measures." Erin said, giving him a wink.

"Let's just _go_ already." Kayla grumbled impatiently from between the doctors.

Daryl nodded and Carl peeled back the wire that Dwight had cut as his secret way in and out of the compound. It was hidden under a garage roof and opened directly onto the overgrown dirt access road behind the motor pool.

The smell reached them first; the unholy stench of a thousand or more rotting corpses on the move, being driven directly towards them to surround Sanctuary and provide them cover for their escape.

While Michonne and the people from Kingdom shut off their lights and music and peeled off and away from leading the mass of the dead, at the front entrance, Morgan and Grayson set off bottle rockets and flares, drawing the herd in. Then they blended in with the first of them, keeping plenty in front of them to deflect any sentry fire. They were on the lookout for Daryl and his people, unsure of where they'd be able to get out of the fences, and one went left and the other right as the herd broke and followed the fence line. Aaron waited at the rendezvous point in case both the other scouts missed the escapees.

Carl quickly wired the hole in the fence back up, securing it.

"_Why bother?" Kayla had asked when Daryl had laid that out as part of the plan._

"_Because they're not all like Negan." Daryl said, "You weren't."_

The first of the herd reached them just as Carl finished.

"_Anyone panics or stops and we're all dead." Carl had said as they'd continued to discuss how it would go down, the memory of his father's choice to save him when Jessie was killed still fresh._

"_Don't look at them, don't talk, don't run. Just keep moving steadily ahead until we find Aaron and he'll lead us to safety." Daryl explained._

Daryl started forward, moving with the herd, matching their speed, feeling the tension on the rope at his waist and the heat of Carol's belly brushing against him. He shuffled, careful to keep his footing, fearful of falling, his crossbow bumping against his chest under his gore covered blanket cover with each step.

He heard the alarm being raised as the sentries realized they were being surrounded, heard voices raised in panic as they saw the extent of the massive herd, hoped that they'd be too busy with defending the compound that they wouldn't notice who all was missing until well after he'd gotten them all to safety.

Then he heard a gasp and the rope at his waist went slack. Whirling he saw Carol standing still, a look of horror on her face, the front of her poncho wet and dripping.

Her waters had just broken.

* * *

I know, I'm eeeevil!

Thanks for reading.

P.S. After my S2 re-watch, I also think the "R" on Carol's list was not Ryan, but Randall from S2. During the debate over the young captive's fate, Carol asks that they decide without her, she didn't sign up for these kind of life or death decisions. Then Dale basically says to her, that "doing nothing is the same as killing him yourself!" and I think that was the start of the change in Carol's way of thinking.


	58. Chapter 58: Go back or go forward

_It's all about choices._

* * *

_**Go back or go forward**_

Daryl had a split second to decide.

_Go back or go forward._

That's what every decision in his life had come down to.

He'd never had the luxury of just standing still.

Go with Merle or stay with his daddy.

Go back to Atlanta to look for Merle or stay in camp.

Climb outa that gully or lay there and let the walkers take him.

Go back to the farm for Carol or stay on the road and let the walkers take _her._

Stay with Rick or go look for Merle in Woodbury.

Stay with Merle or go back to the prison.

Go look for the Governor or stay at the prison.

Leave the prison or stay and die.

In a split second he had to decide.

_Go back or go forward._

Back to Sanctuary with little to no chance at another escape, but with two doctors and the medical equipment Carol and the baby would need, or go forward to freedom, hoping that they could get her to Hilltop in time, hoping that he wouldn't lose them both in the attempt.

In that split second he saw her hand open to release the rope, her eyes filled with love, silently telling him goodbye, to go forward, to leave her, to save himself and the others.

_No fucking way._

Dropping his bow, Daryl lunged, flipping up his blanket so he could scoop her up and hide her underneath it in a bridal carry. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Carl bend to retrieve the crossbow, letting it hang loosely from his hand, almost dragging it as he shuffled along in an ungainly irregular gait, moaning in a perfect imitation of a walker's vocalizations.

His arms full carrying her, the others filled in around him, protecting he and Carol on all sides, using their knives to take out any walkers that got too curious, too close. They moved slowly forward, heading for the small grove of trees beyond the road and the abandoned buildings at the outer edge of the Savior's compound.

Daryl's mind raced. _How long did they have after her water broke? Why did it feel like a million years ago that he'd heard her discuss Lori's delivery with Hershel? Preparing herself to help like she always did, she'd trained how to do it, even down to having Glenn help her take down a walker to practice... shit, what if she needed that? What had Erin told them?_ He looked up and his eyes met the young doctor's anxious ones as she walked beside him on one side with Kayla, Tara and Carson on the other, Enid and Carl behind.

He should be defending them; he was risking all their lives putting Carol's safety above the rest of the group... couldn't think about that now... needed to find Aaron, get her someplace safe... He felt her turn her face to his chest to muffle a cry of pain and he had to force himself to keep moving forward, holding her tighter, and trying to comfort her.

* * *

**Hilltop**

"What can we do for you, Wade?" Tammy, one of the Hilltop sentries, asked, her bow visible in her hand.

"Here to see Gregory." Wade said with an arrogant thrust of his chin. He and five of the men he'd brought stood at the gates, the other fifteen back in the cover of the trees waiting. Since Hilltop had no ammunition for the few guns they had, he felt confident in taking in only a small armed group.

"Any particular reason?"

"You questioning _Negan_?" Wade's voice went cold.

"Now don't get your panties all in a bunch, just asking." then she called down to those manning the gate, "Open up!"

Wade didn't recognize the young woman who stood just inside the gate waiting for them.

"Hello—welcome back to Hilltop, if you'll be so kind as to hand your weapons over I'd be happy to take you up to the mansion." She said firmly, indicating a stoic looking Eugene and Spencer, who were acting as guards at the gate, with a nod of her head.

"Who the hell are you?" Wade frowned, keeping his hand on his gun, "Where's Gregory?"

"Gregory hasn't been feeling well, I'm his new assistant, Maggie." she told him. "I've been here about a month, taking care of some of the less important every day operations."

"Yeah, you look like what he likes workin' under him." Wade snarked at her, tilting his head and slowly looking her up and down in a way that made his innuendo perfectly clear. There was something vaguely familiar about the young woman with the pixie cut short hair, but he couldn't place her...

When she turned to motion the guards to take their weapons, Wade realized that he didn't recognize either of the guards, and only about half of the people watching their arrival.

"Jesus here? Monroe?" Wade asked quickly, keeping hold of his gun.

"He's out on a supply run." Maggie said easily, her posture relaxed but ready.

"You come in with a new group?" Negan's second asked, looking around, pinning some of the other new faces with his gaze.

"That's right. Our camp was overrun by walkers." Maggie told him, truthfully as it so happened. "Jesus found us and led us all here. We brought what supplies we were able to salvage."

"Supposed to report that kind of shit to Negan." Wade said gruffly, narrowing his eyes. "How many of you?"

"Eight." Maggie lied. The population of Alexandria had been closer to fifty, but about half were gone, either at Kingdom or Sanctuary or out on runs.

"Need a list—names, ages, gender—all that along with any skills they got to contribute. This ain't no free ride." Wade said, giving her the party line.

"All filed with Gregory." Maggie said, raising her chin. "We understand what Negan wants."

Wade stared at her. There was something in her tone that made the palms of his hands itch. He heard the sound of metal on metal and eyed the big man working at the blacksmith's forge—what was he hammering? Was that a _broad sword_?

"Bring the sniveling bastard out here." Wade demanded, feeling the sweat trickling down his back.

"As I said, he isn't well. He's bed ridden and only sees people in his rooms. I'll have to insist on you turning over your weapons before you can be taken to see him." Maggie said, her eyes rising ever so briefly to the battlement towers on either side of the gates.

Wade looked up to the top of the gates and swore. The sentry and five others had their weapons trained on him and his men, as did the two guards. They weren't all crossbows and spears either.

At a signal from Maggie every one of the people in the bailey revealed their weapons as well. All of them had either a pistol, rifle or one of the newly forged swords.

"_What the fuck is this?"_ Wade blustered, furious and bewildered.

"Ain't got no bullets no how!" Chet, one of the men in his group snarled, and then lunged forward, making a grab for Maggie. Three bullets hit him almost simultaneously, one from Eugene, one from Abe, standing with the blacksmith, and one from above and behind them, proving him dead wrong.

"We were _also_ able to salvage our armory and reloading equipment." Maggie said with a small smile. Eugene had been a godsend in that regard, working with the local blacksmith, he had been able to fabricate bullet molds and recreate the equipment that allowed spent casings and shells to be reloaded.

Wade looked up from Chet's body, the blood splattered around his head, clean shot through the temple by a precision weapon. He looked all around them, saw Sasha up on the battlements pointing her sniper rifle directly at him, realized they were surrounded, outnumbered and out gunned, and finally dropped his gun and raised his hands in surrender. His men looked stunned, but followed suit, letting Eugene and Spencer search them and take their weapons.

"Gregory's not in charge anymore." Maggie said. "And y'all should know, we're not so interested in bending the knee to another tin-plated dictator."

"Then I think we need to talk." Wade nodded, starting to wonder if the Archer had been right—maybe one figurehead was as good as another. With the backing of a strong group like this, maybe it was possible to find a way out of Negan's world...

* * *

**A hill near Sanctuary**

Eric paced back and forth in front of the Winnebago, using the big binoculars to watch the walkers surrounding the Sanctuary compound, wishing he knew that Aaron and the others were already out and safe, but there had been no word yet. He'd been tasked with staying back, on higher ground, away from the herd, guarding the Hilltop doctor, the OB/GYN specialist, Denise, who was in the RV, ready to treat any injuries or wounds, but most of all to give Carol any aid she might need when they got her out.

He thought back to when Daryl and Carol had arrived at Alexandria, as haggard and worn down to the bone as the rest of their group. How they'd stepped up and become an important part of the community, working both inside and out to restore something that they'd all lost, a sense of belonging, and a sense of home. In the process they'd finally admitted to each other their true feelings and had just started to make a life together when one crisis after another conspired to tear them apart. This baby was a miracle... and Eric was the kind of person who liked to believe in miracles coming true.

"How much longer do you think?" Denise asked, standing in the open doorway of the RV.

"No way of knowing. Daryl's group has to get through the walls, then make it through the herd long enough for someone to find them. That's a lot of cold bodies to sort through." Eric replied.

"I see Rick and Jesus!" Ron called from his post on top of the Winnebago. "They're breaking off from the last of the herd and heading into the woods. Those horses are cool—they aren't even scared of walkers."

"That's nothing, they're also trained to run alongside the tiger." Heath said, coming around from the other side of the RV, his Kalashnikov automatic rifle held at the ready. That was one of the stories he'd been told last night as he'd sat and talked with Ben and Ruth and a few others after dinner. They were full of praise for their leader's eccentric but effective style.

"Is that for real?" Ron asked skeptically. The idea that someone had a pet attack tiger seemed like something out of a video game.

"Saw with my own two eyes." Heath assured him. "Dude's seriously bad ass, no wonder Rick's..." but then he stopped, realizing maybe he'd said too much.

"What about Rick?" Ron asked. He had an ambiguous relationship with the Alexandria leader, who had been the death of both his parents, but who had taken him and Sam in afterwards. He was here now, because Carl and Enid, his best friends, were in danger. He'd asked Rick for a chance to help save them and been allowed to come along on the mission, though his face was still swollen and bruised from the beat down he'd taken trying to prevent Enid from being taken.

"Let's just say Ezekiel took an interest in Michonne and Rick wasn't too pleased about it." Heath elaborated, with a shrug.

"Michonne and Rick?" Eric frowned. He supposed it made some sense, they were raising all of those kids together, worked together, trusted each other implicitly, had survived other losses and made it through.

"Both pretty much alpha types though..." Heath mused.

"And Daryl and Carol aren't?" Eric asked. "Warrior to warrior works too."

"You men are worse gossips than any woman I've ever known." Denise snorted, plopping herself down on the bottom step and opening her water bottle to take a long drink.

"Somethings coming!" Ron suddenly yelled. "I can see movement against the tide of the herd! Coming fast, from the south..."

"Stay frosty, people." Heath said, moving around to the south side of the RV. "We still got walkers all over this place as well as possible Saviors in addition to our people."

Denise followed him, drawing a 9mm handgun from the holster on her thigh and aiming it at the tree line, holding it in both hands like someone who knew what they were doing.

"I really hate this bullshit." Denise said with a world weary sigh, "Dead people should stay _dead_. Taught us that in med school. All I'm sayin'" and then she popped off a round, taking out a skeletal looking lone walker that stumbled out of the forest.

Heath looked over at her with interest. Her long blonde hair was scraped back into a messy sweaty pony tail, her slightly fogged up glasses perched a little low on her freckled nose. She wasn't what you would call a classic beauty, but she was funny and smart and fierce.

"You wondering if I'm into chicks or dudes or is it the black/white thing?" Denise asked, feeling his eyes on her, and then looked over and flashed him a grin, her green eyes merry.

"We live through this day?" Heath said, grinning back, "I think I'd like to get to know you a _whole_ lot better, Doc."

"Sounds like a plan..." Denise nodded, training her focus back on the tree line, and then adding, "Oh and the answer is yes... to _all _of the above."

Before Heath could respond to that revelation from the women he'd met less than twenty-four hours ago, Ron's shouted _"Heads up!"_ drew his attention back to the edge of the forest where more bodies emerged out from under the shadows of the trees.

* * *

**Hilltop**

"You wouldn't happen to be from Georgia, now, would you?" Wade asked, surprising her.

"Why?" Maggie frowned. She looked over at the man sitting in the chair across from where she sat, what had formerly been Gregory's big desk between them emphasizing her authority.

Spencer stood at the door, gun in hand and Abe sat in a third chair behind and to the side of Maggie, staring intently at Wade, whose hands and feet were bound.

"I think I might've met a friend of yours." Wade said, leaning back, a slow smile spreading across his face, "Deadly with a crossbow? He had similar thoughts on me overthrowing Negan."

"And what did you tell him?" Maggie asked.

Wade noted she didn't deny knowing Archer.

"What's really going on here?" he asked her with a steely squint. "Is Gregory dead?"

"He's alive but no longer the leader of Hilltop." Maggie told him, "His interests weren't compatible with the needs of the community."

"Which are?"

"Getting out from under the boot heel of the madman you follow." Maggie said. "Getting the freedom to live."

"You got a plan on how to accomplish that?" Wade asked, curious.

"How big is his operation?" Maggie countered, standing and coming around the desk to lean back against it, invading his space. "Can't make real plans unless we know what we're really up against."

Wade studied the young woman. She had a strong steady gaze and a no nonsense demeanor that reminded him of someone... he saw how she wore her knife, her blouse tucked behind the hilt, billowing slightly out over her slightly rounded abdomen...

"_Carol..."_ he murmured and was rewarded with a slight startled look from the girl. "You're from Alexandria, aren't you? All of you new ones?"

Maggie's eyes narrowed.

"Is she okay?" she asked tightly, and Wade could see how badly she wanted an answer by how carefully she was suppressing her concern and anger.

"She was holding her own when I left." Wade said carefully. "Your friend with the bow is keeping a good eye on her."

Maggie visibly relaxed, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

"And the baby?" she ventured.

"Still cooking far as I know." Wade shrugged, then lowered his eyes to the floor and added, "Had a little scare though—sent the boss off looking for medical equipment for her—he's real fond a' her and that kid."

"Negan left Sanctuary?" Maggie asked, her tone lighter.

"You already knew that though, didn't you?" Wade asked shrewdly, raising his eyes to hers.

"_Where's Negan?"_ Abe barked menacingly.

Maggie raised her hand without looking back at him, asking for his patience.

"On his way to Washington—to some hospital in Bethesda Archer told us about—if he's your man is that even real?" Wade asked.

"It's real." Abe said, making Maggie give a hint of a smile. _Washington and Abraham..._

"What about the other women he took?" Maggie asked. "Are they still alive?"

"Were when I left." Wade nodded, then his brow furrowed thoughtfully, "He took the Latina with him though... what was her name? Rosario? Lupita?"

Abe was up and off his chair faster than Maggie could react. He grabbed Wade by the throat, lifting him up off the chair one handed like he weighed nothing.

"Abraham!" Maggie cried, putting her hand on his shoulder to calm him.

"_He took Rosita!"_ Abe said, his red flushed face only an inch from Wade's, his choking hold tightening.

"_And this asshole is our best bet of getting her back!"_ Maggie said adamantly to Abe, shaking her head at Spencer who had come up closer behind Wade asking her silently if she needed his help to break it up.

Abe continued to stare at Wade, who was making helpless gurgling sounds, his bound arms and legs flailing.

"Abe, put him down." Maggie ordered quietly.

Abraham held his stranglehold for a few more seconds and then released Wade, who fell to the ground, knocking the chair behind him over. Then like some roused grizzly stopped in mid-maul, the ex-soldier retreated to his seat, sitting down heavily.

Spencer helped Maggie lift Wade back up, righting the chair and then sitting him back in it.

Wade coughed, catching his breath and glaring at Abraham who snorted and gave him an ugly unapologetic smile.

"You think you got the stones to take on Negan?" Wade asked, his voice rasping and dry.

"We had the stones to send one of our own into Sanctuary and get our friends out." Maggie said. Then she walked back behind her desk and turned on a short wave radio system and lifted up the hand microphone.

"Denise, do you have them yet? Over?" she asked into it.

At first there was only static, but then an excited young voice came on.

"_Denise is busy, Maggie!"_

"_Carl!?"_ Maggie exclaimed, tears springing into her eyes, "Are you okay? What's happening?"

"_I'm okay, but Carol's having the baby and it's too soon."_ The boy said, his fear sharp even through the hiss of static on the channel. _"I gotta go—we're heading out now—Denise says to tell Carson to get the incubator ready and oh shit! Tell him we have his brother, okay? And Enid and Erin and Tara and Daryl, but we lost Rosita. Shit! I gotta go!"_

The transmission abruptly cut off.

Everyone stared at each other dumbly, unsure of whether to be happy or scared at Carl's mixed bag of news.

"It'll still take them an hour to get here if they're lucky." Wade said, surprising Maggie with the note of soft worry in his voice.

She frowned over at him.

"After I lost mine, I got into all this to make a safe place for families, kids, people who needed it. People like Carol. I thought that's what Negan was." Wade said, "He said it was—hell, I think part of him actually believes it—but he's... he's not _right._" He shook his head, "He treats people as disposables, and uses them for his own twisted ends like they was paper dolls or something. Kills without mercy or remorse, forces women to be his sex toys by coercion and burns the faces of the men who love them if they try to interfere." He leaned his head back, fighting tears. He was done, done with Negan, the Saviors, all of it.

"You gonna help us?" Maggie asked him, setting the microphone down on her desk and coming back around the front of her desk, staring at him until he met her eyes.

"I got fifteen more guys out in the woods, watching this place." Wade said. "We were sent here to get Carson and take him back to Sanctuary. Then we were supposed to go occupy Alexandria so we could start relocating people there. Negan means to make it his new base."

The truth of his mission out, Wade slumped forward. He felt a soft touch on his right shoulder and looked up into the compassionate eyes of the new leader of Hilltop.

"_Thank you."_ Maggie said.

"He'll kill me for this." Wade said and then gave a low snorting chuckle. "He hates disloyalty more than anything."

"Most leaders do." Maggie agreed, her cheek curving into a small smile. "But you just chose a new one. If you can't go back, go forward."

* * *

_Note:__ This Denise is pan-sexual. She has a love relationship with Heath in the comics._

_**Spoiler WARNING! Rant about 6:14 Spoilers ahead:**_

_Been working on this chapter off and on for the last few days, trying to surf the high from the Hug 2.0, knowing as soon as the spoilers for this coming week came out I would crash and burn, and I was right. Sigh._

_I feel manipulated and a bit trolled by how they never even mentioned Tobin's name in MMB's TTD appearance, knowing we would take that as a sign to not take it seriously, (which MMB's press interviews also did) and then they showed the snippet of the Caryl porch conversation to draw in our ratings while all the while planning to slap us in the face with another Cabin kiss, this time in public in broad daylight on his front porch showing they're a couple (I understand that's the preferred ship name now that it's an actual canon ship? She typed, wiping the tears off her cheeks). HILARIOUS Mr. Gimple, you who rip out beating hearts out for your amusement._

_I don't even know what to feel anymore. I feel hollow._

_And killing Denise to give Daryl more man pain sucks the big one just as hard, Gimple._


	59. Chapter 59: It's a Mad World

_Picks up right where the previous chapter left off._

Well, I knew tonight's episode (6:14) would be a crap fest, so I've been working on this chapter to distract myself. Hope you find it a nice diversion from the truly crappy feels I know many of us are feeling.

**Spoiler Alert:** Avoid my end note rant if you haven't seen episode 6:14 yet.

* * *

_**It's a Mad World**_

_All around me are familiar faces__  
__Worn out places, worn out faces__  
__Bright and early for their daily races__  
__Going nowhere, going nowhere__  
__Their tears are filling up their glasses__  
__No expression, no expression__  
__Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow__  
__No tomorrow, no tomorrow_

_And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad__  
__The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had__  
__I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take__  
__When people run in circles it's a very very__  
__mad world mad world_

_Children waiting for the day they feel good__  
__Happy birthday, happy birthday__...  
_"Mad World" as written by Roland Orzabal

Lyrics © BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC

* * *

"_Where the hell are they?" _Morgan muttered to himself, searching the dead faces looming all around him. Many of them were so desiccated he wasn't sure how they were able to keep moving, but move they did, slowly, painfully forward, circling the fortress guarding their prey, following some unseen mindless dictate to search for flesh to consume.

Then he saw them, united in a protective cordon around Daryl, who wore a look of sheer determination overlaid on top of terror. As he quietly made his way towards them Morgan silently took inventory: _Tara, Carl, Enid, Erin—a man walking next to her he didn't recognize—and was that Rosita? No... then who?_

_Oh God. Where was Carol? _

Morgan reached out and touched then took hold of Carl's arm, stopping him from swinging his blade down in automatic self-defense.

When Carl saw who it was his mouth came open in a silent cry and he spun around to Daryl, grasping his shoulder. Daryl turned his head, but kept moving slowly forward.

When he recognized Morgan, Daryl's eyes went wild with panicked hope like a trapped animal that sees a potential bolt hole. Morgan pointed to where help waited under the trees at the edge of the herd, keeping him moving in the direction he was already heading, and Daryl nodded, his look of determination returning tenfold.

Morgan joined the group, guarding their flank, his mind reeling with the thought that they had lost Carol and Rosita. He knew Daryl would never leave someone behind who was still alive and he couldn't imagine how both he and Abraham would deal with the loss of the women they loved, remembering how he'd lost himself to the madness for so long after...

Carl tripped but turned it into a natural looking stumble and then hefted Daryl's crossbow higher so it didn't interfere with his gait.

Morgan frowned and looked over at Daryl, wondering why he'd had the boy carry it and then realized that he couldn't see whatever weapon Daryl had instead because his hands were hidden under the gore covered blanket poncho he was wearing—the very large _bulky_ blanket—he saw the bulge of Daryl's flexed biceps, the careful way he placed his feet...

Shit! He was carrying someone! Someone who couldn't walk on their own. _Carol?_

A fairly new walker, still very recognizably human, stopped right in front of Daryl blocking his way and canting its head to the side like a dog scenting prey. Tara slammed her knife through its temple and pushed it aside without breaking stride and Daryl started forward again, still careful, but with greater urgency.

Morgan could see Rick and Jesus on horseback just ahead through the trees visible above the milling mass of ambulatory corpses blocking their way. When they caught sight of Daryl their faces broke into relieved smiles and they started weaving their mounts through the edge of the herd to clear a path.

When Daryl reached Rick he flipped up his poncho and muscles straining, power lifted Carol up to Rick, who cradled her in front of him across the saddle. Jesus held his hand out to Daryl so he could jump up behind him and then the two horsemen took off, heading for higher ground, leaving Morgan and the others to be picked up by the other riders who were waiting.

When the others were well clear of the herd they were taken to the truck where Ezekiel and Michonne waited to greet them. Michonne embraced Carl while Erin and the other unfamiliar man demanded to be taken to where Carol was.

"_She's in labor—we're doctors!"_ Erin yelled before she saw Michonne was with the Kingdom group who had helped them.

"Carol?" Michonne asked, "They would've taken her to Denise—Dr. Cloyd, the Hilltop doctor—she's an OB/GYN."

"Where are they?" Carson asked, "I have her sonograms—her charts—she'll need them, please!"

"I'll take you." Ezekiel said, "They're in the RV up on round top—high clearing nearby."

The former captives and Morgan all piled into or onto the big tow truck rig that Ezekiel had been driving. They swung by the rendezvous spot and picked up Aaron. Grayson was there with him, having made the complete search circuit around the compound, anxiously awaiting news if Morgan had been more successful.

"Her water broke just as we moved into the herd..." Erin explained when Michonne asked her what had happened. They along with Tara and Kayla were in the cab of the truck with Ezekiel.

"Did you see what she tried to _do_?" Tara asked, her eyes brimming with tears which she angrily wiped away, "She was going to walk into the herd—let them take her so we could get away—how could she do that?"she inhaled and let out a ragged breath.

"_Tara..."_ Erin said, putting her hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her.

"No!" Tara said, shrugging off the hand, "I was so mad at her—she was the reason Daryl was leaving Rosita behind—because she was too weak to wait..."

"She offered to stay behind to protect Rosita when Negan got back," Erin said, reminding them that dropping the rope after her labor began was the second attempt at self-sacrifice she'd made that day.

"That's who Carol is." Michonne said. "She'll do anything she has to, to protect the ones she loves."

"But what about the _baby?_" Tara asked, turning tearful eyes to Erin. She couldn't fathom how Carol could be so willing to die when she carried a life inside her.

Erin gave her a look of deep sadness.

"She doesn't think he'll make it, does she?" Tara asked softly. "It's too soon, isn't it?"

"It's..." she sighed, "Carson and I will do everything we can, but I think we should all prepare ourselves..." Erin told them quietly.

"She's a baby doctor—Cloyd—the one they're taking her to." Ezekiel suddenly said, surprising them. He'd been listening quietly up until now, interested in hearing about the people they had worked so hard to rescue from Negan.

"A specialist?" Erin asked, her face brightening with hope.

"Got all kinds of equipment too—we've sent our pregnant women to her for delivery for awhile now. She's saved most." he nodded, "Worth her weight in—well, whatever you value now days I guess."

"Well then, let's send all our good thoughts to Dr. Cloyd." Tara said resolutely.

They all silently took a moment and then Michonne had a look on her face that said she wasn't sure if she should ask her next question.

"And Rosita?"

"Negan took her with him on a run." Erin said, "We didn't know until the plan was already in motion... we couldn't wait..." she looked sadly at Tara and then back to Michonne.

"They'll be more vulnerable out on the road." Ezekiel said, echoing what they'd already tried to say to reassure Tara that they would do everything possible to rescue their friend.

"_Yeah..."_ Tara said, but she was also thinking of all of them, now out on the road, of Carol so desperately in need of help, hoping that it would get to her in time.

* * *

Flinging the gore encrusted blanket off Daryl jumped to the ground and ran to where Rick was handing Carol down to Eric and Heath, who removed the blanket covering her. Denise came closer, but Daryl took Carol from Eric, wary and unsure of the woman he'd never met.

"It's all right Daryl—she's a doctor—she'll help Carol." Eric said, trying to calm the desperate man.

"How long has she been like this?" Denise asked, motioning Daryl towards the RV as she tried to assess Carol's condition without touching her.

Rick slid off the horse and threw off the camo warp he wore as well, his face tight with worry. Jesus dismounted and caught Rick's horse and held both animals still while he watched the scene unfold.

"She was holding onto me most of the way, but she just lost consciousness." Rick said anxiously, following them towards the RV where Denise was leading Daryl.

"Her water broke; she's in labor." Daryl said, his voice breaking as he looked down at her face, her brow creased in pain even while unconscious.

"Let's get her inside and on our way to Hilltop then, okay?" Denise said gently.

Daryl looked up at her and blinked rapidly and then nodded.

Denise sent Eric inside ahead of them to get the RV started just as the tow truck pulled up. Carl and Enid jumped off the back and ran to Rick, embracing first him and then Ron, who had climbed down off the top of the Winnebago by then.

Aaron went around the side of the big camper, climbing in the passenger side door when he saw Eric seated at the wheel ready to go. They embraced joyfully, just holding each other in a moment's respite from the chaos around them.

Erin and Carson pushed their way through the gathering crowd with the wounded Kayla in tow, following Denise into the RV.

"You kids go with them." Rick ordered Enid and Carl, "We'll catch up back at Hilltop when we can. Make sure you let Maggie know what's going on." Carl nodded and then he and Enid disappeared into the RV.

Jesus, Michonne, Ezekiel and Tara stood back a bit, watching the rest sort out who would go and who would stay. In the end Heath, Ron and Rick stayed. They tried to get Tara to return to Hilltop with the others who had been held, but she said she was fine and wanted to be in on the recuse operation to save Rosita, saying she couldn't face Abraham and Eugene with the news that she was missing.

"We have scouts on Negan's party; they're heading north east." Jesus said.

More of the other people from Kingdom and Hilltop that had come in support of the rescue operation kept coming, some in vehicles, some on horseback until there were almost twenty-five gathered around Rick, Ezekiel and Jesus.

"Bethesda—the big military hospital there." Tara nodded. "He was going after equipment and supplies for Carol and the baby."

Rick raised an eyebrow at that, but when neither Jesus nor Ezekiel looked surprised he exchanged a questioning frowning look with Michonne instead.

"What happened in there?" Rick asked.

"Carol did what she needed to do to keep you all safe." Michonne surmised, "What she always does."

Rick still looked uneasy thinking that Carol had become so important to Negan in the time she'd been with him that he'd risk such a dangerous mission just to help her.

"Should we hit them going or coming back?" Jesus asked, looking at Rick and Ezekiel, ignoring the undercurrents he sensed running between the Alexandrians to push through to practical matters.

"We go after Rosita now!" Tara insisted, incredulous that they would even consider waiting, "The longer she's with them the more at risk she is."

"We hit them coming back we get whatever supplies they scrounged too." Ezekiel said, ignoring Tara's outburst.

"Listen _asshole_—_fuck_ your supplies—that's my _friend_!" Tara yelled, pulling her knife and getting in his face.

About ten guns were immediately pointed at her from the Kingdom people.

Michonne drew her katana and stepped in between Tara and Ezekiel, separating them.

"Enough! We're going after Rosita now. No debate." Rick said forcefully, looking around at everyone until they dropped their weapons back down. "Let's get that straight."

"We need to regroup and resupply from today's mission." Jesus pointed out. "The scouts will keep them in sight until we can get back on the road."

Rick nodded in agreement.

"We're closest to Sanctuary." Jesus said. "We can be there and ready to roll in a couple of hours."

"Then let's go get the son of a bitch." Tara said, nodding.

"Negan's not going to leave anything to chance." Ezekiel warned. "We were only able to get this close to Sanctuary because of the herd and because he was on the road, focused on his goal to help your woman Carol. I hope she'll be all right."

"She's strong." Michonne said resolutely, "She's a survivor." she looked at Rick, "And she has Daryl."

"I wouldn't want to be Negan if she doesn't." Rick added.

* * *

Denise let the woman, Erin, who identified herself as a doctor and Daryl, the man she assumed was the woman's husband, strip off her dirty clothes and quickly clean her then put her in the back sleeper bed of the RV where she could examine her.

"When her waters broke was it all in a gush or a trickle?" Denise wanted to know after putting her stethoscope to Carol's abdomen to find the fetal heartbeat.

"Big gush." Daryl said, his voice a low strained rumble. _It had been terrifying_.

"Is she on any drugs, herbals or other courses of treatment I should know about?" Denise asked, attaching the blood pressure cuff and handing it off to Erin to take while she continued her exam.

"No." Carson said, "We didn't have anything to stave off labor so she's been mostly on bed rest. She's at 36 weeks, so technically it's pre-term and the baby is small..."

"She has a caesarian scar—what was your birth plan?" Denise asked Erin and Carson, "Can she be delivered vaginally?"

"First time—when she had her daughter—that was almost fifteen years ago." Daryl said, not knowing if that made a difference. He had also cleaned up at best he could so he could sit on the bed with Carol, holding her hand.

"We planned a vaginal delivery. The ultrasound showed she had a well healed uterine wall and as I said the baby is small." Carson explained.

"You have the ultrasound?" Denise asked after getting the BP and pulse rates from Erin.

While she and Carson looked over the charts Erin put her hand on Daryl's shoulder to check how he was holding up.

"Why don't she wake up?" Daryl asked her softly, brushing the hair back off Carol's forehead.

"She will when she needs to." Erin assured him.

Carol wasn't bleeding out, her vitals were within normal range, and she didn't show any signs of internal hemorrhage. It was as if she was just resting, conserving her strength for the delivery.

"She's in labor though, right?" Daryl asked, his voice tight with worry, "I mean once her water breaks the kid has to come out. If she can't do it then you'll have to cut her..."

"She doesn't seem to be having contractions yet, so we have some time." Erin squeezed his shoulder, "Talk to her, let her know you're here, that we're safe now."

"I need to do a manual exam to check for dilation." Denise said, coming back to the bed, listing slightly as the RV turned a corner and grabbing onto the side wall to stay standing.

"_Sorry!"_ Eric yelled back. He was trying to balance their need for speed with the need for stability.

Daryl braced Carol's shoulder so she wouldn't slide and her eyes fluttered open, trying to focus on him.

"_Are you real?"_ she asked him, reaching her hand up towards his face.

Daryl took it and smiled down at her, but then his head fell and he sobbed with relief, all his fears that she'd never wake up, that he'd really lost her, letting loose all at once.

"Oh, don't cry." Carol soothed in her soft scratchy voice. "You're real, I believe you..."

"Carol?" Erin asked, hating to interrupt, but needing information from her.

"Erin—I'm glad you're here—my back really hurts down low." Carol said, sounding a bit annoyed.

"What kind of hurt, honey—sharp or more just achy?" Erin asked.

"Achy. Like bad period cramps." Carol said, frowning as she took in her surroundings. "Where are we?"

"On our way to Hilltop—this is Dr. Cloyd, _Denise_—she's the OB/GYN there—she needs to take a look under the hood to see how things are going, okay?" Erin asked.

"Okay." Carol said, looking a little fearful.

"Hi Carol, now that we've been properly introduced I'm just going to—" Denise said, with a trace of humor.

"Is the baby okay?" Carol interrupted and both she and Daryl looked up at the doctors.

"Good strong heartbeat." Denise nodded, "Can you help me raise your knees?" she said gently.

Carol did as she asked, quite used to the position by now from Carson and Erin's regular checks. It was a huge relief to have Daryl by her side instead of—

"_Rosita..."_ Carol murmured in distress. "He has her—we have to get her back from him."

"The animal that bruised you?" Denise asked. She had winced to see the contusions on Carol's breasts.

"Yes." Carol said.

"We'll get her back... and Negan dies." Daryl said, with a dark finality in his voice.

"All right Carol." Denise said, withdrawing and resting her hands on top of Carol's knees for a brief reassuring squeeze. "You can put them down or however you're most comfortable."

"Can I sit up?" Carol asked and at Denise's nod Daryl helped her into a sitting position leaning back against him.

"Although your waters did break you're not in active labor yet." Denise told them.

"I'm not?" Carol looked surprised.

"You're not. It can take twenty-four to forty-eight hours to pass into labor after the amniotic sac ruptures. If you start feeling more pain or contractions let us know, but right now I think we'll have plenty of time to get back to my Clinic before you deliver." the doctor smiled at them and pulled off her vinyl gloves.

"You sure?" Daryl asked, frowning at her in disbelief.

"This is good news, Daryl." Erin said, "We have time to get everything ready—Denise says she has an incubator there so he can go in there and cook for a little bit more until his lungs are more ready if he needs it."

Carol and Daryl shared a look, hers full of shame. She'd almost given up back there; almost let the walkers take her and their son...

"_I'm sorry..."_ she said to him, her eyes full of tears.

"It's okay, you didn't know..." Daryl soothed, pulling her into his arms and holding her close. "You're here n' you're doin' good, both of you."

Carson looked distressed; he'd seen what Carol had tried to do.

"You're the bravest woman I've ever met, Carol, especially in this mad world we're stuck with now." Carson told her. "You're a good person. Don't ever forget that."

Carol looked up at him, embarrassed, but grateful.

"Just rest now, we'll be there soon and you'll have your baby today or tomorrow." Erin added. "Happy birthday, right?" she smiled.

"Come get us if she starts having any more pain or feels any other changes." Denise addressed Daryl.

"Thank you—all of you." Carol said and Daryl nodded in agreement.

The three doctors left to give the couple some time alone.

Carol put her right hand on Daryl's, wrapping her fingers around his and lifting it until it rested on her abdomen, curving over the swell of their son resting there, her hand on top of his, lacing their fingers together.

"_I thought I was dead."_ Carol murmured. "No today or tomorrow..."

""You don't get to leave me... Everything we been through together... we'll get through this too." Daryl said, resting the side of his face against hers.

"I should've known... you always find me." Carol turned her face up to his, her eyes full of love and her belief in him; in _them_.

* * *

_Note: __Contrary to what film &amp; TV shows may lead us to believe, you do usually have plenty of time to get to the hospital after your water breaks, as Erin tells Carol, 24-48 hours is a good window. If it goes on longer there is a risk of infection for both mother and baby &amp; the Dr. will induce. _

_I needed a hopeful chapter after the sadness I feel buried under after seeing tonight's episode._

_**Warning! Spoilers for 6:14 "Twice as **__**Far" in The following rant:**__**  
**__I am incredibly sad to see such total confirmation that Carol was openly living with Tobin and that Daryl didn't care. Not one bit. I don't understand why they even bothered to have them talk. All it did was give him a reason to go after Dwight in revenge for Denise because his old buddy Carol agreed that he should've killed the guy that stole his precious bike &amp; bow._

_I don't think his leaving Alexandria that we saw in the previews will have anything to do with Carol. They are ship baiting us with the way they cut the preview to make it look like he was going after her, just to keep us tuned in like they did with with those 2 tiny scenes this week &amp; the hug last week while she is literally fucking another man. She left the note for Tobin with mentions of love, not Daryl. I am bitter and tired of this shit. Tobin obviously cares about her &amp; she for him, but I'm sorry I just can't ship it._

_Have you heard of the death by a thousand cuts? that's what Caryl has become to me. Each week they slice away at my hope that any of this is leading somewhere._

_My other issue is that they have made Carol suffer so much physical __abuse and mental anguish in their hunt for an Emmy for MMB that it's almost sick. She is being put through the ringer &amp; called a monster &amp; a killer for the exact same behavior that Rick has been doing since forever &amp; he gets a canon romance with his OTP bad ass warrior woman while Carol gets to screw a glorified extra red shirt generic nice dude &amp; people accusing her of betraying Daryl. Nice, Gimple._

_Sorry to be such a downer, but thanks for letting me vent._


	60. Chapter 60: Love Within Reason

_Events progress at Alexandria and Hilltop as Wade realizes just who he may be dealing with and the difficult birth of Carol and Daryl's son tests all those involved._

* * *

_**Love Within Reason  
**__No __one has ever loved me__  
__As deeply as you.__  
__No one has truly shown me__  
__What love could be like until now:_

_Not pretty or safe or easy  
But more than I ever knew.  
Love within reason...  
That isn't love.  
And I've learned that from you..._

"No One has Ever Loved Me" from _Passion, _lyrics by Stephen Sondheim

* * *

_**Alexandria**_

"We shoulda brought more of 'em here with us—do this scut work." one of the men from Sanctuary groused, scowling up at Wade as he dumped his wheelbarrow full of concrete into the hole around the new pilings.

"Just keep your trap shut—we ain't safe in here until we get that gate repaired."

"Don't see why Chet n' them got the cake detail takin' the doc back to Sanctuary. By rights that shoulda been us what had to rough it outside while you all was livin' it up inside of Hilltop."

In actuality, Chet was very much _not_ living it up, since he was dead, along with three of the others that had entered the fort with Wade. After making his deal with Maggie, Wade had agreed to act as a double agent, returning to his mission for Negan of taking over Alexandria, but bringing with him a force of people actually _from_ there as pseudo-forced labor. The fifteen men who had been waiting in the woods were none the wiser and the one other survivor of Wade's group was being held in the jail cell at Hilltop to sell the story that he had left with the others supposedly escorting Carson.

They'd been here a week and had cleaned out the walkers who had wandered in the open gate and were now working on a new one. The damage done to the old one by Negan's RPG meant a complete rebuild, including resetting the columns. Welders were working on the steel superstructure of the gate itself to the left of the entrance, which for now was blocked by a school bus reinforced with wooden panels.

"And how come we gotta keep hands off the pussy we took from Hilltop?" another man grumbled. "Negan ain't here. Whatta you care what we do?"

"We have an agreement with Gregory not to harm anyone from Hilltop." Wade said evenly. That had also been part of his deal with Maggie. She wasn't sending any of her people along to be brutalized by Negan's men.

"So if they're down with it, not forced like, it's okay?" a man named Barney asked. He was one of the quieter men and had lost his wife right before he'd joined up with Negan. Tall, thin and balding with a stringy blonde comb-over, he was a third string defender, brought along on this run only because the more capable men had been taken by Negan for his mission to Bethesda.

"You got yerself a girlfriend there, Barn?" Wade asked, curious.

"I been working in the gardens with a nice lady..." Barney said, embarrassed.

"_Pantry lady?"_ one of the other men guffawed.

"If you mean Miss Olivia, I regret to inform you that her affections are already engaged." said a strong clear voice.

The men all turned and saw one of the men who had come from Hilltop with them. He was carrying what looked like a tackle box and had a very stubborn look on his broad face.

"Well, hey there... Gene is it?" Wade called.

"It is not. It is Eugene, Eugene Porter and the lady in question is with me."

"She your wife or somethin'?" Barney asked, puffing up a bit in challenge. "I didn't see no ring on her finger."

"Miss Olivia and I have an understanding." Eugene said with great dignity.

"You puttin' the wood to her then, Mullet?" one of the other men said crudely. "Usin' all that cushion fer some pushin'?"

At that both Eugene and Barney glared at the crude man.

"You shut the hell up, Frank—she's a nice woman!" Barney said, angry now.

"She's a fat bitch that not even you two stupid fucks woulda looked at twice in the world that was." Frank said with an ugly curl of his lip. "And Negan ain't here, so if Barney wants her, he's got dibs." And then he pulled his gun, aiming it at Eugene's head.

Barney reacted quickly, pulling his gun and aiming it at the crude man, but Eugene had already started swinging the metal box he was carrying, spinning around and building up so much centrifugal force that when it made contact with Frank's head it laid him out.

"_What the fuck!" _one of the other men squawked, pulling his gun and aiming it at Eugene, but Barney stepped in front of the Mullet and protected him, aiming his gun right back.

"Served him right. He disrespected the man's woman." Wade said, sounding bored as he hefted his Uzi. "Everybody get back to it!"

The other man lowered their guns and slowly put them away. Grumbling, they picked up their wheelbarrows, shovels and welding tools and went back to work.

"You're a lucky man, Eugene." Barney said, holding out his hand for him to shake. "You be good to her."

"I will endeavor to do my best." Eugene nodded and then the two men backed away from one another and Barney headed out in the opposite direction while Eugene stood still.

"What's in the box?" Wade asked, indicating the metal tackle box Eugene still held.

"My completed work on the shortwave radio set so you can communicate with Hilltop." Eugene said, "However my use of it as a weapon may have rendered it ineffectual."

"Uh _huh_." Wade said, side-eying the strange man. "Well, you get on that then."

"Yes sir," Eugene said, nodding and then he turned to leave.

"And Eugene?"

"Yes?"

"You need me to take care of that?" he gestured towards Frank lying on the ground in front of him. The man was just starting to stir, lifting his hand to the bloody gash on his head and groaning.

"No thank you. I think he's learned his lesson, but if he hasn't, I will not be so reasonable with him again." Eugene said with an air of untroubled confidence. Without any further goodbye he turned and trudged back down the street, taking the shortwave to see if it needed repairs.

"_Don't mess with the Mullet."_ Wade mused to himself. Even the weakest appearing of these people was formidable. He took that as his lesson for the day.

* * *

_**Hilltop**_

"How's she doing?" Riley asked, her tone concerned, shifting Judith in her arms when the little girl tried reaching out for the tray of food Claire was carrying.

"About the same." Claire said with a little sigh and a sad crooked smile.

"But he's good, right?" the girl asked, sounding even more concerned. "Still eating and everything?"

"He's doing really well—Denise said he can try taking the breast when he comes out of the incubator today—no more tube feedings."

"That's wonderful! I felt so bad seeing him with that tube in his nose..." Riley said. "It's good Celeste has enough milk for them both since..." her voice trailed off and she looked sad.

They had almost lost her when the placenta separated from the uterine wall causing massive bleeding. Denise, the two doctors Carson and Erin saved the baby with an emergency caesarian and along with blood transfusions from three different donors, including Daryl, they pulled Carol through.

"She might still agree before her milk dries up." Claire nodded. It would be such a good thing to help Carol bond with the baby if she could nurse him, but with him in the incubator it was impossible for now even if she agreed. While she'd been unconscious after the surgery they'd been able to pump to get the all important first milk, the colostrum that helped provide natural immunities for the baby, but since she'd regained consciousness she'd refused to even see him.

Daryl was a wreck. He spent his days and nights going back and forth between Carol and the baby, still darkly terrified he'd lose them if they were out of his sight. He had to be forced to go outside and get some air and would only do so if one of the doctors stayed with Carol.

"I'd better get in there." Claire said, but Riley didn't move.

"I thought maybe seeing Judith would help her." she said uncertainly.

"It's a good thought, honey." Claire said gently, giving Riley a patient smile. "Not quite ready for that yet though, okay?"

"Okay." Riley replied, looking a bit lost.

"Appa!" Judith said in an indignant grunt, reaching again for the small dish of applesauce on the tray of food Claire carried.

"No sweetie this is for Carol." Claire admonished her, "There's more in the kitchens."

"I'll take her—tell Carol and Daryl we said hi, okay?" Riley said and Claire nodded, pushing the trailer door open and going in. She passed by Erin who was sitting beside the incubator with little Mr. Dixon, her gloved hand reaching inside through one of the access holes in the Plexiglas side to stroke his little back as he lay curled up sleeping. They nodded at one another and then Claire continued on to the adjoining recovery room where Carol was staying.

Daryl was sitting, leaning back in a chair next to the bed where Carol lay propped up on several pillows, the covers pulled up to her chest but with her arms out, lying limply beside her. Her eyes were open but unfocused, her face blank and slack.

When Claire entered Daryl sat up, wiping his hand down over his face in a weary gesture and then standing and holding his hands out for the tray she carried. A similar tray, with the food barely touched, sat on the small table next to Daryl's chair.

"Thanks." Daryl said.

"If she doesn't start eating more we'll have to—" Claire began, but Daryl cut her off with an angry look.

"She's _fine."_ he insisted, putting the new tray down below her feet at the foot of the bed and then grabbing the other unfinished one off the table and handing it back to Claire.

"Denise said he can come out today—you want to be there for that?" Claire asked him.

"Of course." Daryl scowled at her and then lifted the tray of food, placing it on the nightstand.

"And how about you, Carol?" Claire asked, raising her voice slightly, hoping to penetrate the fog behind which Carol had retreated.

Daryl lifted the spoon on the tray, dipping it in the applesauce and holding it up to Carol's mouth. She grimaced slightly and tightened her lips.

"_You promised."_ Daryl said softly, and Carol's eyes shifted ever so briefly to his face before she opened her mouth just wide enough for the spoon.

Claire watched as the rough looking man slowly fed the pale thin woman the small dish of applesauce. A caesarian was major abdominal surgery, but physically she was already starting to improve, though if she were sleeping and eating better she'd be stronger. However Claire was most concerned with the classic postpartum depression symptoms she was manifesting.

The only person she would talk to was Daryl, and then only if no one else was in the room. In the week since his birth, she hadn't asked to see the baby, almost as if she didn't really believe he had survived the delivery and they were all just humoring Daryl so she wouldn't lose her mind.

The baby had needed the extra care and intervention of the incubator and special feeding for the first few days, but he was a tiny warrior and strong.

"Have you decided on a name?" Claire asked Daryl, forcing the issue. "We can't just keep calling him baby boy Dixon." she smiled, "I understand your brother's name was Merle—were you thinking of—"

Carol choked on the apple sauce trying to swallow it while making an indignant noise at the same time. She glared at Claire as she coughed, trying to clear her throat.

Daryl had a wary hopeful look on his face as he handed Carol the napkin to wipe the spit up apple mush off her chin. Her hand came up to take it, and a quick smile lit his face, but he hid it to reply to Claire.

"He's a fighter like Merle." Daryl agreed, just to poke at her a bit more. "And he definitely favors the Dixon side in looks." he added, which wasn't true. He had strawberry blonde peach fuzz on his tiny noggin just like Sophia and the same up-tilt of his button nose as Carol.

"_Please stop lying."_ Carol said softly, her voice so full of defeat it brought tears to Claire's eyes.

"What am I lying about, Carol?' Claire asked gently.

"I kill them. The children; I always kill them." Carol said flatly, her hand holding the napkin dropping back down to the bed.

"That ain't true." Daryl said fiercely. "You saved Judith—you saved all of us. Sam's been waitin' for days to see you, Riley n' Enid and Carl too. You saved them. They love you, just like me, just like our son."

"_I never heard him cry."_ Carol whispered, anguished, _"They took him and he didn't make a sound."_

"Carol, you were bleeding out—you lost consciousness during the delivery—" Claire told her. "Believe me, he made noise." The kitten-like mewls had been because he was so small and his lungs a bit underdeveloped, but they were loud enough.

"Is that what you been stuck on? You didn't _hear _him?" Daryl asked her. He'd been trying for days to get through to her, to find out why she was so certain the baby didn't make it. Was why she refused to look through the opened door to the next room where his incubator was plugged into the Hilltop generators because she couldn't hear him fussin'?

"We've been feeding him through a gastrointestinal tube that goes in through his nose to his stomach. He can't vocalize with the tube in." Claire explained.

"You said we can get him out—let's go." Daryl suddenly said, standing up and pulling the covers down off of Carol.

"Wait—her IV." Claire said, putting the tray down out of the way on the floor and coming to the other side of the bed to unhook the Ringers solution from the port in her hand and then nodded to Daryl so he could put his arms under her knees and shoulders, careful not to jostle her. Claire pulled the blanket off the bed and put it over Carol and Daryl carried her into the other room.

When she saw them, Erin stood so they could place Carol in the rocking chair next to the incubator, then she ran to get Denise.

Tears filled Carol's eyes as she sat there, rigidly still, not looking at the Plexiglas container, so sure it would be empty and she'd have to face the truth they were so cruelly forcing her see.

"He likes when you pet him" Daryl said softly, kneeling next to her and staring at their son, "Even my big ham hands. I just use my pinky real careful..." he ran his fingers down over the back of Carol's hand in imitation of the touch he used on the baby.

Carol's eyes went to her hands and then up to meet his eyes.

"_Just look at him, sweetheart."_ he urged her, _"He needs you; he needs his momma..."_

Carol stared at him, saw the earnestness in his eyes and let it pull her gaze along with his to the incubator.

Baby boy Dixon was like a little bird that had fallen from a nest too soon in a wind storm. What she could see of his little bald head under the tiny knit cap was round and fuzzy; his wizened red face grimacing from the plastic tube taped to his cheek and entering his nose, his pigeon chest was moving up and down rapidly above his swollen belly. She could see the blue and red map of veins and arteries through his translucent skin and marveled at how long and delicate his fingers and toes were on his miniature hands and feet.

"_He looks terrible."_ she said with a soft cry and then put her hand over her mouth in shame. This was her baby—he was beautiful—but oh god, he was so small and red and bruised looking...

At the sound of her voice he stretched out his little spider monkey fingers in her direction as if he was reaching for her and the monitors showed his heart and oxygenation rate had increased.

"You both been through the ringer." Daryl reminded her. "And he looks a lot better than he did, believe it or not."

"Talk to him—he heard you for months—he recognizes your voice from in there." Claire urged Carol.

"I don't know what to say." Carol said helplessly, overwhelmed. She'd refused to let herself feel anything after she'd woken up from the delivery, knowing she'd shatter into a million pieces, knowing Daryl needed her _not_ to...

"Here." Daryl said, handing her the anti-bacterial wipes to clean her hands and then the vinyl gloves so she could reach in as Erin had been doing, and he did the same. He reached in first and the baby grasped hold of his pinkie when he ran it down the thin little arm and into his palm.

Carol made a little noise of astonished amusement.

"There you go, son." Daryl said softly, his voice a gentle rumble, "Brought your momma to meet ya." he nodded at Carol and she put her right hand through one of the other two openings on this side.

"Where... how should I?" she asked him and Daryl tugged his finger out of the baby's grip so she could take his place.

When the little fingers closed over hers, holding on tight, she gasped.

"_Oh God..."_

In that moment she finally believed it was true. Their son was alive. They'd gotten away from Negan. She wasn't just dreaming all of this. She hadn't lost him.

"Do you want to hold him?" Denise asked quietly from the doorway, smiling over at them.

"More than anything." Carol said, continuing to look at the tiny boy she and Daryl had made with their love. She reached over and took Daryl's hand in her free one, lacing their fingers together.

"I think we can manage that." the doctor said and exchanged a relieved smile with Claire, Erin and looked at Daryl, who was watching Carol with tears of relief in his eyes.

* * *

AN: Some dear friends of mine had preemie twins a couple of years ago and I was invited to come and see them and _oh my god_ they were just these tiny and vulnerable looking little birds, just like how Carol saw the baby in this chapter, though Baby boy Dixon isn't on oxygen as they were.

I was going to drag out Carol's post-partum depression a bit longer, but I am just not in a place right now where I can make her suffer any more, so it got mostly resolved in this chapter. It can be a very serious condition and Carol is lucky she has Claire and the other doctors there along with Daryl to support her through it. She has enough self–imposed guilt over lost children to last several lifetimes.

Next time we catch up with Rick et al. on their mission to rescue Rosita and take out Negan.

Thanks for reading! And thanks to all the other writers who have been updating their wonderful fics to help us all get through the end of this season.


	61. Chapter 61: The Workers of Iniquity

_Timeline:__ This chapter takes place after Negan leaves Sanctuary to go to Bethesda in search of the medical supplies to help Carol, who unbeknownst to him has escaped along with Daryl, Carl and the rest of the captives from Alexandria except Rosita, who Negan had taken with him. Rick leads the allied group from Hilltop, Alexandria and Kingdom to rescue Rosita and try to take out Negan and as many of the Saviors with him as they can.__The events at Hilltop and Alexandria in the previous chapter are occurring at the same time._

* * *

"The Workers of Iniquity"

_"Deliver me from the workers of iniquity and save me from bloody men."_ Psalm 59:2, _King James Bible_

* * *

"What do you want from me?" Rosita asked, her voice strong, her chin up thrust in defiance. She knelt in the middle of the clearing, the vehicles parked in a semi-circle around the gathered group of men. Her anger and fear was only betrayed by the flush in her cheeks and the quick rise and fall of her chest.

The caravan heading for Bethesda had been keeping up a punishing speed, Negan pushing hard to get there and back to bring the equipment and supplies needed to help Carol and the baby. After twelve straight hours of driving each day, slowed by having to push abandoned cars and trucks off the highway periodically they had to stop to refuel and eat.

Pressed into service to help prepare the food, Rosita had been tending the fire at the center of the temporary camp when the cook had congratulated her on her upcoming nuptials. When she informed him in no uncertain terms that she would _not_ be marrying the leader of Sanctuary, he had leered at her.

"You don't marry the boss; it means you ain't on the do not fly list."

"You won't touch me. I saw what he did to the men who tried to rape us. You don't have the balls to go against him... or if you do he'll cut them off..." Rosita scoffed, taunting him.

A big hand roughly closed over her upper arm, dragging her away from the fire at the edge and into the center of the clearing.

"On your knees." Negan ordered.

Rosita locked her jaw and her knees, glaring at him.

Negan backhanded her, knocking her to the ground and then hauled her up into a kneeling position.

"What do you want from me?" Rosita asked, more to challenge his authority over her than any real wish to know. She'd known what he wanted from her from the second he'd forced her to come on this mission.

"Would you die for your friends?"Negan asked speculatively, tilting his head to the side, insolently looking her up and down.

"Yes." Rosita said without hesitation. She would. She would give it as Glenn had done, as Carol had tried to do.

"Would you let all my men have a go at that luscious tight little body to save them?" he continued. "Or are you and I going to come to an understanding of the marrying kind?"

"I thought you didn't believe in rape." Rosita said through clenched teeth.

"It's not rape if you agree to it. I'm giving you choices." Negan smiled his crocodile smile, pointing at himself with Lucille and then caressing the barbwire wrapped tip lovingly, he hefted it menacingly, using the vicious instrument to point in a sweeping gesture over all the gathered men watching the scene intently.

"You, death by bludgeoning or gang rape? That's coercion not choice. Can't get it up without threatening a woman?" Rosita said, still defiant, but with a note of resignation underlying her voice.

The Sanctuary leader strolled over to stand directly in front of her, looming and threatening, his fly even with her face.

"You got a pretty smart mouth, Rosita." Negan purred, lifting Lucille up over his shoulder, "I'm gonna love seeing it wrapped around my big dick which is as hard as steel right now in anticipation."

Rosita continued to glare up at him defiantly, but didn't respond.

"I just lost two wives, sweetheart. I am in mourning. Nothing takes the edge off of death like a new wife and a wedding night." he leaned in, his mouth to her ear, saying in a low voice, "You make me happy n' I might just promise to forgo the pleasure of taking my little teen bride back there at Sanctuary until she's ripened a couple more years."

_Sparing Enid from this man's depravity... that was why Carol had done what she had done... to spare them all. Could she do any less?_ Rosita thought. _And maybe, just maybe when his guard was down and she was close enough..._

Negan stared at her, raising one sculpted eyebrow.

"Your promise." Rosita said, blinking several times, fighting back the furious tears.

Negan grinned and then his face went solemn and he used the deadly bat to cross his heart.

In response Rosita nodded in agreement and then closed her eyes and dropped her head.

"Grub will commence after the nuptials, gentlemen." Negan smiled wolfishly, grabbing Rosita's upper arm to drag her back into a standing position and then called out loudly, _"Dwight!"_

"He's still out on perimeter patrol, boss." another of the men reminded him.

"Since Wade isn't here, he was gonna be my best man." Negan said, disappointed. "Fuck his ass then. Get the preacher over here."

* * *

"I have to get back." Dwight whispered hoarsely. "I'm only supposed go out two clicks on perimeter and then go back."

"Is Rosita safe?" Rick asked tersely.

"She was when I left them, man." Dwight said, a bit exasperated, "I had to get out and away to call you."

"_If you're lying, you cowardly piece of shit!" _Tara shoved at his shoulder, pushing him back before Jesus stepped between them and forced her back.

"Look, I gave you the exact camp coordinates." Dwight whined, "Just tell me when you're going to hit it so I can get her ass and mine outa there before then."

"Why didn't you just bring her now?" Rick asked, frustrated.

"I didn't know for sure you were out here, now did I?" Dwight snapped. "Tipoff that bunch too soon n' we both end up with our heads lookin' like bloody pancakes. Had to make sure someone from Archer's crew was waiting." he ran his fingers over his half burn-scarred face and paused to clear his throat, "Hey, is his missus okay? Their kid?"

"Don't know." Rick replied, a bit surprised to be asked, "They were heading for Hilltop. The Doc there is good with that kind of thing but we haven't heard anything yet."

"Carol's strong and she's got Daryl with her." Michonne said sounding confident. She exchanged a loaded look with Rick. They both knew what trials Carol and Daryl had already been through to be together. If anyone could get through this one, it would be them.

"Good... guess that's good." Dwight said quickly. "Look I gotta get back. We change up perimeter detail on the half hour."

"You got a watch?" Rick asked, looking down at the one Carol had returned to him after Terminus.

"Yeah." Dwight said, his hand going to the thin banded cheap one Sherry had worn now resting in his pocket.

"Two hours." Rick told him. "Be next to Rosita when we come in and we'll get you both out."

"Got it." the turncoat replied, hoping he could keep her away from Negan long enough to do so.

* * *

"Is there a problem?" Negan asked, looking over the shoulder of the man wearing headphones sitting at the electronic equipment in the back of the van.

"Main camp missed check in." the shortwave operator frowned, twisting some dials, trying to isolate a signal. "I've tried the relay station at the five mile marker, but they say they can't get through either—they sent a team back to see what's going on."

"How long until we hear back?" Negan said in a cold controlled tone.

"Depends on what they run into. If it's a herd or raiders—"

"Or an attack?" Negan fumed. He knew that just as he kept watch on the other communities in the DC area, they had spies tracking his movements. Leaving the compound had been a calculated risk. He'd believed it was worth it to get Carol the things she needed to deliver the child safely.

"Do we head back?" the operator asked.

"Not just yet. Give the relay station team an hour to check back in. Then we decide." Negan said, his eyes narrowing, but his mouth broadening into an anticipatory grin. "In the mean time my bride awaits."

* * *

The radio operator continued working through the night to reach the other outposts to find out why Sanctuary had missed the check in. When he finally got through to someone who had learned the story, he called in his boss and relayed the message. They needed to return to the main compound as soon as possible. It was surrounded by the dead and Carol and the others couldn't be found.

Negan was stunned. _She was gone. Had she left him_? _Had she been taken?_ His doctors and other wives were missing. _And what about Archer?_ In the chaos of the attack on the compound no one was sure if he'd been killed trying to stop them, taken by the herd or had left with Carson and the women. _Had he been betrayed? If so, by whom?_

One person with them probably knew the answer.

Climbing up into the caravan that served as his private sleeping quarters, Negan stared at the bound sleeping woman he'd spent the last several hours owning. Only the possibility that she now carried his child kept him from dragging her out of the bed by her hair.

"Get out." he muttered to the guard watching her, Dwight.

"Boss?" Dwight asked softly, frowning, looking down on Rosita. He'd returned to the camp to find he'd been too late to even try to stop the sham marriage's consummation, arriving only in time to tend to the aftermath. It was apparent that when she'd fought his attentions despite her coerced vows, her new husband had not used Rosita gently. The sight of the damage done to her had sickened Dwight. Her wrists and ankles were chafed and swollen from being restrained, a necklace of bruises circled her throat where his big hand had closed over it until she'd passed out and there were others over much of her body.

Negan was spiraling out of control.

"I said get out." Negan repeated the order. "I need some more alone time with my wife before we break camp."

"She's... she's pretty done in..." Dwight said hesitantly, glancing at Rosita and moving protectively in front of her and then looking back to Negan. The scratches on his thick neck and jaw line showed that the young woman had fought the Sanctuary leader hard before being restrained.

Negan stared at him as if he couldn't comprehend anyone questioning his orders. He tilted his head to the side slowly.

"Getting one side of your fucking asshole face burnt off wasn't enough for you, Dwight?" he asked mildly, raising Lucille and studying the traces of hair, blood and brain matter imbedded in the barbwire wound all around her surface.

With one last despairing look at the woman in the bed, wishing he was a better man, Dwight fled the camper.

* * *

Before dawn Rick and his allied forces from Hilltop, Kingdom and Alexandria surrounded the Savior's encampment using the cover of night for the element of surprise. Ducking under the waist high double strand of barbed wire around the perimeter of the camp, meant to snag and slow walkers, Jesus led the advance reconnaissance group through. So far they'd encountered only one sentry, his head down, asleep at his post, which had been suspicious. Even though they had timed their foray to the changing of the guard, there should have been some more signs of movement.

Two abandoned vehicles, probably the most expendable, sat alone in the middle of the clearing. On closer inspection they saw that they'd been stripped of tires, gas tanks drained and any other useful parts removed, monkey-wrenching them so as to be unusable by anyone else.

"What the fuck!" Tara exclaimed, lowering her gun and turning in a circle looking around the smoldering campfires. Walkers had been tied and propped up around them, posed to look like men sitting warming themselves at the fires. Their throats had been ripped out to keep them from making any noise, gouts of black blood and bile running down the front of them.

Negan and his men were gone.

"Rick, we have a situation." Jesus said into the short range walkie talkie he pulled from his back pocket while the others took care of the walker decoys including the dead sentry.

"What is it?" Rick asked, agitated.

"They're in the wind." Jesus explained.

There was a long pause on the other end as Rick absorbed the information.

"Can you track them?" the former sheriff asked, his voice flat.

"On it." Jesus replied, relived Rick wanted him to just get on with it. He'd been prepared for an emotional outburst. "Should have some answers by the time you get here."

When Jesus returned from scouting ahead to check for tire tracks and any other signs, he looked angry and anxious.

"They're not heading for Bethesda any more. And they're not all doubling back to Sanctuary either. Half are heading in the opposite direction." Jesus gritted out.

"Hilltop?" Michonne asked, Carl and Judith were there. Maggie and the rest from Alexandria... Daryl and... she looked over at Rick, stricken.

"Most likely." Jesus said.

"_Shit."_ Rick swore. "He knows Carol's gone."

* * *

_AN: Finally got back to this one. Thanks to those who have been asking for it to give me the push to continue. _

_Negan is a hypocrite, murderer and a rapist. Rosita is his victim, like so many others have already been, including Dwight, Sherry, and the other wives, including, in this story, Carol__. __I hope that the show portrays the depths of his degradation in a way that makes it clear he truly is a worker of iniquity._

_Thanks for reading! _


	62. Ch 62: Should the Wide World Roll Away

In this chapter a little bit of sweetness before a confrontation at Hilltop with Negan and the Saviors that will change everything.

Warnings: secondary character death.

_Thank you to the Admins. who do such a wonderful job of keeping this place humming along. It's a safe place to work out all my feels. You are my people. I have too many feels about this stupid show and none of the people I know in my regular life who watch it are Carylers so their eyes kind of cross when I try to talk about my ship with them. My BF literally said, "You have to disengage—just watch the show for the overall plot and stop caring so much about the characters—you're making yourself crazy." Sigh. It's like he doesn't even know me at all..._

* * *

Should the Wide World Roll Away

_Should the wide world roll away  
leaving the black terror of  
limitless night,  
Nor God, nor man, nor place to stand  
Would be to me essential  
If thou and thy white arms were there  
And the fall to doom a long way.  
_\- Steven Crane

* * *

"This is nice." Carol said, feeling a blush pinken her cheeks.

Daryl had been sitting in the chair beside her Infirmary bed while they talked but she'd fallen asleep and when she'd woken up she was in his arms.

"You were tossin' n' turnin' so hard in your sleep I thought you were just gonna roll right off the bed." he murmured, his face only inches from hers, his body flush against her. When he looked her right in the eyes his were warm and soft, full of tender concern.

"Sorry." she said softly.

"Nothin' to be sorry for." he told her, reaching up to push her hair back behind her ear, "Bad memories?" he asked carefully, not wanting to upset her, but worried.

Carol nodded.

"We both got plenty a' black nights full a'nightmares worth a' them." he agreed. "You and me? Need to start making some more _good_ memories."

Carol's mouth curved into a very small smile as her eyes rose to the crib beside the bed.

"Yeah, makin' him is a pretty damn good one..." Daryl's voice sounded quietly proud, amused and slightly shy.

"You think we'll... ever..." Carol stopped. There was so much standing between them; his horrific time with the Wolves, hers with Negan and both their pasts before the Turn. She wasn't sure they could ever get back to a place where more than this was possible.

"I think..." Daryl said, running two fingers under her chin to draw her attention, "I think we got a chance to keep trying."

Carol's gaze returned to meet his. Her small smile returned and bloomed, lighting up her face. Her eyes softened more and crinkled at the corners, glowing blue.

They both leaned in, slowly, with hesitation, unsure, but when their lips met it was with a sense of grateful relief. For some reason the universe had yet again given them a chance to be together. There was a profound sense of rightness to the way her body automatically molded to his, comfort that soon became tinged with desire.

Her pale, slender but strong arms went around his shoulders, her fingers catching in his hair to keep him close and he slowly deepened the kiss, responding to her silent entreaty. Soon his hands started to seek out the curve of her hip, pulling her even closer and she felt the evidence of his desire, but the reality was that neither of them was really ready to do much more than exchange these kisses to serve as hopeful promises of something more.

"Best stop." he said softly, regretfully pulling his mouth from hers to rain little kisses along her jaw with a sweetness that made Carol sigh. This side of him was what she'd first glimpsed so long ago along a Georgia roadside, when his voice went all gentle and he'd pledged himself to finding her child. Hidden inside his formidable exterior was a man with deep emotional strength and compassion. Was it any wonder she'd fallen in love with him?

The baby started fussing, giving a rusty little cry that they'd come to recognize as unhappiness with something in his world.

"I'll get him." Daryl said, forcing himself to move away after one last quick kiss, and she released him so he could rise and go to their son.

Carol watched Daryl deftly diaper the baby and carefully rearrange the tiny white onesie so he could snap it shut over the postage stamp sized Pamper that covered his bottom.

"He still needs a name." she said, frowning slightly as he handed the boy over to her to hold. She cradled the child to her breast and he began making soft snuffling noises as he nuzzled in.

"Just call him _hungry_. This age all they do is eat, piss and shit." Daryl grunted with amusement. After his precarious start in the world baby Dixon was doing his best to make up for it by exceeding his doctor's expectations in feeding and putting on weight.

"_Daryl."_ she admonished, pursing her lips and giving him that quietly exasperated narrow eyed stare that said she'd had just about enough of his shit but still loved him anyhow. Huffing at him she moved aside her blouse so the baby could latch on and gave a small smile when both father and son gave a small satisfied sigh when he did. Yes, she loved this sweet nurturing side of Daryl.

"You're asking the guy whose parents came up with Daryl and _Merle_ to name your son?" Maggie teased from the doorway.

"You got it easy—you got a good solid name for your kid from a good man—your pop." Daryl grumped to her good naturedly. He had respected Hershel like few other men he'd ever known and still felt responsible for his death. If only he hadn't given up in his search for Blake... He looked over at Maggie, wondering if she still blamed him for that, or for choosing not to go on the run that had put Glenn in Negan's path... or for not saving Beth. To his mind she had plenty of reasons to hate him, but she was her father's daughter and seemed to rise above them.

Carol ran her hand lightly over the baby's downy head.

"There's Dale, Bob, Tyreese, Noah... Glenn..." Daryl said slowly, flashing back on Carl listing out all the women they'd lost since Atlanta when they were trying to name Lil'ass-Kicker. The wave of sadness that had washed over him when the boy had said Sophia and Carol's names still made his heart hurt.

"Glenn talked about us using Dale if we ever had a baby—said it could be a boy or a girl's name." Maggie said, not meeting Daryl's eyes but instead focusing on their baby. She knew how much her husband's mentor had meant to Carol and Daryl as well.

"Dale was a great man..." Carol said slowly, looking down at the baby. "But this baby is something... _new._"

"You don't want to name him after nobody." Daryl nodded, he could understand that too.

"No Daryl Junior, then?" Maggie flashed a small grin.

"Fuck no." Daryl gave a small shudder. This kid was going to be better than his old man in every way. Look who he had for a mom.

"We'll find the right name." Carol said patiently, "We'll know it when we hear it."

"Let me know when you do so I can have it for the community records. Since he was born here he's considered a resident of Hilltop." Maggie said.

"What about us?" Carol asked.

Maggie and Daryl exchanged a look of surprise.

"You want to stay here?" Daryl asked.

"Alexandria isn't the safest place to be at the moment." Carol reminded them. In the false control of the turncoat, Wade, things could go very wrong there at the drop of a hat.

"No place safe once Negan gets back to Sanctuary and finds out we're gone." Daryl said darkly. "He'll come looking sure as shit."

"We have to hope Rick and the others catch him on the road before that happens." Maggie said, but the troubled look on her face said she knew it could just as easily go the other way.

"Have we heard anything from them?" Carol asked.

"Not yet. Last we heard they were still shadowing his group." Maggie explained. "They went out of the range of our walkies and the short wave is on the blink again. I wish Eugene was still here—no one else can make it work like he can."

"Can you send for him?" Daryl asked. He didn't like being out of communication with the others.

"They need him more at Alexandria..." Maggie shook her head.

"...and he doesn't want to leave Olivia." Carol added. The look she shared with Daryl showed he knew exactly how the mullet man felt.

"I'm sending a patrol to Kingdom this morning to see if they've had any word. Sasha, Heath, Grayson and Morgan all volunteered." Maggie told them.

Carol looked troubled. She didn't want anyone leaving the safety of the fort while Negan was out there probably on the warpath.

"You up for a little more company?" Denise asked Carol from the doorway, putting a hand on Maggie's shoulder.

Daryl scowled. The baby was still nursing and he didn't much like the idea of someone coming in and watching that. He reached onto the makeshift receiving table and plucked up a small blanket and carefully placed it over the baby's head and Carol's chest.

"I don't think I can keep the kids all out of here much longer." Denise smiled. They had all been so worried about Carol, Daryl and the baby. They'd been asking to visit since the birth.

"One at a time." Carol said, frowning a little. A very excited Sam peeked around from behind the doctor and Carol relaxed. She'd missed the boy that she and Daryl had taken in despite her initial reluctance.

"Is it okay? The baby? I mean with the germs and stuff?" Sam asked, suddenly looking worried.

"You can look at him but not touch." Denise reminded him.

"What's his name?" Sam asked.

"Don't have one yet." Daryl said, frowning at Carol, who was smiling.

"What do you think we should call him?" she asked, looking back up at the orphaned boy and then up at Daryl who frowned. What if he unknowingly chose a name more loaded than others? Ed? Shane? Andrew? Phillip? David?

Carol gave Daryl a look that said she trusted the boy and he nodded, sighing in silent agreement.

"You want me to name him?" Sam asked, his voice full of wonder.

"He's your little bro." Daryl said, his voice softly rumbling with suppressed emotion.

Sam's eyes went big and he looked to Carol for confirmation of what Daryl had said. He hadn't known if they would still want him after having their own little boy.

"What do you think, Sam?" Carol prompted again.

"Can we call him Mikey?" Sam asked, leaning forward, trying to get more of a look at the baby than just his little legs and bottom which peeked out from under the towel.

"Michael?" Daryl asked, mulling it over.

"He's an archangel—threw the devil down to Hades." Carol smiled, as the sleepy baby released his hold on her breast with a half-hearted whimper, finished with his breakfast. She shifted him up over her shoulder, readjusted her blouse to cover her breast and then carefully patted his back to elicit a burp.

"It's a good name, kid." Daryl said, his cheek curving into a lop-sided grin. Hopefully Negan would be similarly damned by his concern for Carol and the baby.

Sam grinned proudly.

"Hello Mikey." Carol said, lowering him from her shoulder and cradling him in her arms, the blanket falling away. She petted her hand over the baby's head again and looked down at him, her gaze full of love.

"Our mom's great, she makes the best cookies." Sam confided to his baby brother as he moved closer to look at him, making everyone in the room smile. It had been Sam's almost fatal attraction to Carol's cookies that had first bonded them back in Alexandria.

"She sure as hell kicks ass too." Daryl said admiringly.

Both Carol and Sam scrunched up their noses at the swear words and frowned at Daryl.

"Little pitchers..." Carol said, reminding Daryl to watch his language.

"Guess being a dad is going to take some adjustments." Denise grinned over at him, but Maggie's face turned sad and wistful.

Daryl felt a lump in his throat. Glenn would never get that chance. His sad contemplation of that fact was interrupted by a loud commotion from the outer room.

"Hurry—we have to hide you!" Tara came running in, out of breath.

"What are you doing back here?" Daryl asked, stopping her by grabbing her upper arm.

"Negan—he's maybe a half an hour back—we pushed hard to beat him here." she looked at Carol, "He knows you escaped Sanctuary and he's out for blood."

"Rosita?" Carol asked, her face going even paler white.

"He still has her. We didn't get there in time." Tara said tersely, pulling out of Daryl's grip and glaring at him. "Right now we need to put you, the baby and anyone else who was at Sanctuary someplace where that son of a bitch can't find you."

"Root cellar, under the basement of the big house." Maggie said, moving quickly to gather up supplies, diapers, lotion, wipes and stuffing them in a backpack. "It's set up as a safe house—food water, everything you'll need for a few days."

Daryl was helping Carol stand up, motioning for Denise to take the baby. When she did, he picked Carol up in a bridal carry and headed for the door without looking back, knowing they'd all follow.

"Find Enid and Carl; Carson and Karla too." Carol ordered Grayson, who'd been standing guard outside the door.

"Carl and Enid are with Ron—I'll get 'em." Sam said stoutly and took off at a dead run.

Daryl motioned Gray to follow him.

Outside Rick, Jesus and Aaron were making sure everyone was armed and taking positions on the walls, getting as prepared as possible. They spared a glance at Daryl as he and his group moved past, nodding as if saying they had his back and he returned the nod even as he walked as quickly as possible, following Maggie and Denise.

* * *

"They're not here." Maggie repeated, just about forty-five minutes later, standing atop the parapets on the interior of Hilltop's city wall looking out over the main gate.

"Where the fuck else would they go? You have doctors here, medical supplies. She was in a bad way. They'd come here for help." Negan said, his voice full of emotion, looking and sounding for all the world like a frantic husband and father to be.

"They didn't." Maggie shook her head, his face stoic. They'd had just enough time to get Carol, Daryl and the baby into the secure location. Tara, Carl, Enid, Karla and the two doctors were also staying out of sight, in the bunker along with Riley and Judith. If Negan or any of his men saw them it would put lie to Maggie's assertions.

"And this asshole who took them? Called himself Archer, uses a crossbow, wears a bandana on his head, leather vest, has devil tattoos on his shoulder?" Negan snarled in frustration.

"Doesn't sound familiar." Maggie shrugged, the lie coming easily.

"And if I wanted to come in there and see for myself?" Negan said, narrowing his eyes, "Search this place?"

"That's not part of our trade agreement with Sanctuary." Maggie said carefully.

"_Trade."_ Negan said thoughtfully, going quiet. "You want to trade? Then let's talk trade."

"What kind of trade?" Maggie said, swallowing hard, keeping her face blank. She knew he had Rosita, but couldn't afford to overplay her hand. She couldn't dare give away that Carol and the rest were there.

"I have something you might be interested in." Negan suddenly gave a shrill whistle and a somber faced Dwight appeared leading a woman with her hands bound in front of her, her identity obscured by her jacket pulled up and over her head from behind. He walked her over to Negan who pulled a pistol out of the holster at his hip and held it to her chest.

"Is that one of our people?" Maggie asked stiffly, forcing her eyes away from Dwight and the woman back to Negan's smug face.

"Open the gate. Refuse and I have no further use for her." Negan said. "I'll give you fifteen minutes to discuss the alternative with your people."

Maggie nodded stiffly and turned away, heading for the ladder.

"You can't." Rick said quietly as soon as Maggie reached the ground.

"But it's Rosita—it has to be!" Abe said pleadingly.

"I know, but we can't let him know we have the others in here." Maggie said resolutely, but there were tears in her eyes.

"He'll kill her." Michonne said, crossing her arms in front of her, "Just to prove his point."

"Why not just take him out?" Abe snapped. "Clean shot right through his fucking head."

"And then his men will blow a hole through the gate just like they did at Alexandria and come in and kill us all." Rick said.

"We don't have much choice or time—do we deal or fight?" Michonne asked.

"We can't give him Carol and the baby." Aaron said adamantly.

"We need a _plan_." Jesus said.

"He could've come at us with guns blazing, but he didn't... why?" Ezekiel asked, speaking for the first time. "He's a bully—he only has as much power as we give him."

"Use what he thinks are his strengths and our weaknesses against him." Morgan nodded.

Rick looked at each of them and then at Maggie.

"It's time." he nodded.

* * *

"This is all over soon as they see what's under that coat." Dwight said with a sour look, his hand on the captive's arm none too gently as he held her in place. In his other hand he'd been entrusted with Lucille and he itched to see if he could use it to hit a home run with his boss's head over the wall surrounding Hilltop.

"Not my fault the stupid bitch would rather die than be used against her friends." Negan snapped. "At least we can still use her to get the gate open."

A low gurgling moan sounded from the walker that had been Rosita Espinosa, its face hidden by her jacket.

Dwight swallowed his gorge which rose at the pathetic sound.

When they'd been breaking camp that morning, she'd shoved her elbow through one of the windows in the small motor home and then thrust her head through, using the broken edge of it to slice through her carotid, bleeding out right in front of them.

That she'd had the strength of will to do that after the way she'd been debased by him throughout the last day and night of her captivity had shocked Negan. He'd thought her broken, compliant, and had been gloating over how he was going to trade her for Carol, but she'd defied him.

"_Shut it up."_ Negan growled at Dwight, banking his fury to keep his voice down, muttering "_Stupid fucking cunt."_

"_Negan!"_

When his name was shouted from the top of the wall the Sanctuary leader looked up.

"That you Rick?" Negan squinted up into the sun, shielding his eyes with his good hand, still holding the gun. "Where's that pretty little breeder who said she's in charge of this place?"

"I'm speaking for the United Communities." Rick said calmly.

"United mother fucking _what_?"

Maggie and Ezekiel appeared on either side of him to show their alliance.

"We're done with you." Rick said. "We're done with your threats and intimidation. We're done with you killing our men and taking our women. We're _done_."

At every crenelation in the wall a sniper appeared, all rifles pointed at the intruders.

"If you're as done with this asshole as we are, lay down your weapons." Rick called out to Negan's men. "Your Sanctuary is surrounded by walkers and our people; Wade has joined our side and Alexandria is back under our control."

Negan's face turned red and he went practically apoplectic. He raised his gun, pointing it at Rick, but stopped when he felt the prick of barbwire and cold smooth wood against the back of his neck.

"Try it and I'll pound your fucking head into the ground." Dwight said, taking the pistol out of Negan's hand and kicking the back of his knees to force him down to the ground.

Outraged, Negan screamed at his men. _"Get this fuck off of me!"_

Two of the Saviors started forward, but were pushed back and disarmed by the others who forced them to their knees and zip-tied their hands together. After that task was completed they started piling their weapons at the front of the gate and then stood with their arms raised.

"Put your hand behind your head." Dwight ordered Negan.

The gate swung open and Abraham rushed out, heading for what he thought was Rosita, without Dwight restraining her, a walker blindly wandering near the wall. Too late Dwight saw what was happening, just as Abe took a hold of her to pull the jacket down.

"Wait—no—stop! Stop!" Dwight yelled.

Negan used the distraction to try and make a break for it, but Morgan was there, with his stick, which he used to deliver a blow designed to render the receiver immediately unconscious. Negan went down like a rock and Morgan knelt to tie him up.

"_Oh shit, no." _Abraham moaned, broken-hearted, the unveiling showing the jagged neck wound on the hissing dead eyed revenant of the once beautiful young woman.

"Abraham!" Rick shouted, hurrying towards him, but the big man was already pulling out his knife to take care of the loyal loving woman who had followed him across the country from Texas on a lost cause.

"I'm so sorry." Abe murmured as he quickly slipped in the blade and then caught the body as it fell forward. He swung it up in his arms, ignoring Rick as he tried to offer words of comfort. Maggie fell in beside him, tears running down her face, escorting him back through the gates.

"Bring him inside too." Rick ordered quietly once Abe and Maggie were out of earshot, pointing at Negan.

Heath and another man from Hilltop moved to lift him up.

"What? Just fry his ass!" Dwight protested, blocking the other two men, his eyes burning with hatred.

"Rick—I don't know..." Aaron said, a worried look on his face.

"We're not going to kill him." Rick said, looking to Morgan for support. "We have to be better than that. Better than _him_."

Morgan nodded, a smile breaking over his face.

"You think Carol will want him in here? Daryl?" Michonne asked, incredulous.

"I'll talk to them." Rick said, brushing off her concerns.

"Are you sure, Grimes?" Ezekiel asked, not looking too happy with the plan.

"There's already been enough killing." Rick said with finality. "Dwight—you're responsible for these men now. I'd say you need to get them back to Sanctuary and give it some relief."

"You're handing it all over to _me_?" Dwight asked, confused.

"You held up your end of the bargain—helped get our people out of there—the Saviors know you. Easier than trying to put one of us in charge." Rick explained.

Dwight's mouth twitched, looking through the gate at Abe's receding back carrying his sad burden.

"I tried... I tried to save that girl—but she did that to herself, to save all of you—bravest thing I ever saw. You tell him that, okay?" Dwight said quietly.

Rick nodded, expecting him to leave then, but he lingered, looking uncomfortable, shifting his feet.

"Carol have her baby?" he finally asked. "She okay?"

"A boy. They're both fine." Aaron told him.

"Good. And the kids? Karla? The Docs? They all got out okay too?"

"Everyone made it." Rick supplied.

"Good... Good." Dwight nodded, stepping back, suddenly startled, realizing he was still holding Lucille.

"You need to go, Dwight." Rick prodded. "We'll be in touch. Make sure the transition goes smoothly. You can count on our forces still surrounding the compound to help you clear the walkers."

"Right. Clear the walkers." he finally stepped back, still looking a bit dazed, allowing Heath and the other man to take the still unconscious Negan away. Before he started rounding up what were now his men, Dwight turned back to Rick.

"You expect to keep him alive you'd better lock him up tight." he warned. "Especially when Archer and his missus find out."

Rick nodded. Carol and Daryl weren't the only ones who wouldn't exactly be thrilled that he'd allowed Negan to live. He winced and rubbed his hand over his weary face as he thought of how Tara, Abe and Maggie would react; how Eugene would feel about letting the man responsible for both Glenn and Rosita's deaths continue to draw breath.

"Have to start over somehow." he said, mostly to himself.

"What's that?" Ezekiel asked as he, Morgan and Rick watched Dwight and the Saviors depart.

"Civilization." Rick said, blowing out a sigh, "We have to start over somehow."

* * *

AN: Thanks for encouraging me to keep coming back to this one! Sorry about Rosita, but she did go out heroically, and her death will cause plot ripples to come.

_Comics Spoiler warning!_ If you follow the comics you know that after Negan is captured there is about a two year period of peace with Alexandria, Hilltop, Kingdom and Sanctuary all working together to try and rebuild their little corner of the world. Kirkman et al. skips over it in the comics for the most part so he can introduce the next big bad, but I want to use that time for Caryl to do some healing and find their way back to each other, so stay tuned!


	63. Chapter 63:Warriors in the Garden

_Two years later..._

* * *

Warriors in the Garden

"It is better to be a warrior in a garden than to be a gardener in a war."

* * *

"She's eight months pregnant—she shouldn't be tryin' to run down two toddlers under the age a' two!" Daryl said to Carol, exasperated.

He'd just come in from a mission outside the walls and had been looking forward to seeing both her and the boys, but had been disappointed when no one was home. He'd tracked her from the pantry, where she'd been helping Olivia take inventory before the big Fair scheduled for the weekend, when everyone from the neighboring communities would descend on Hilltop for a celebration of two years of peace, to the field next to the community gardens where she'd been engaging in some target practice with a smaller version of his crossbow.

"You know he likes to play with Hershel and Tara likes having them to practice being mama with while Maggie's at work." Carol reminded him, shouldering her bow and then linking her arm through his to start him walking towards home. "I'm sure Eric is there too."

"That whole thing still..." Daryl squinted and grunted a bit uneasily. "Like everybody's tryin' to repopulate the earth."

"You know that's exactly what—" Carol rolled her eyes until she noticed his smirk and batted his shoulder. _"Asshole."_

"Just sayin' that between Aaron and Eric turkey-basting one with Tara and Maggie and now Claire looking for some stuff to _start_ another one, plus Denise and Heath here and Rick and Michonne over in Alexandria due any day now we got a regular baby boom goin' on around here."

"Claire? She and Felicia are looking for a donor? How do you know that?" Carol asked, squinting at him.

The back of Daryl's neck reddened.

Carol's eyebrows went up, realizing just how he knew.

"I told 'em no." Daryl said, his mouth twisting in embarrassment.

"Without talking to me?" Carol said mildly and tilted her head at him, "Why?"

Daryl frowned at her, trying to gauge what she was really thinking. When their friends had approached him to father a child for them it had been with the understanding that it would only be if Carol agreed, and that it would be a co-parenting situation for both couples if they went through with it.

"You're a wonderful father, Daryl. Just because I can't have any more children doesn't mean you shouldn't." Carol said quietly. The complications that had necessitated the caesarian when Michael had been born meant that she couldn't get pregnant again, for which Daryl had been secretly glad. He didn't want her risking her life like that again.

"Don't want to have a kid with anyone but you, and we got two good ones already." Daryl said gruffly. Sam was a precocious twelve year old who'd taken on most of Daryl's mannerisms and at almost two, Mikey was also turning into his little shadow. Their lives were plenty full raising the boys.

"It's quite an honor." Carol replied evenly, though her eyes looked a bit misty. "I know they consider you one of their closest friends—like a brother. I could see that as a reason to agree to what they asked."

"Yeah... guess I do feel like I owe 'em...Claire especially... for what she's done for us..." his eyes rose to hers, "Wouldn't even been able to consider it if she hadn't gotten us past... what we needed to get _past_..."

They'd been in intense therapy since their return from Sanctuary and the capture of Negan, building on the love and loyalty they already shared. For Daryl and Carol to come to terms with the damage inflicted on them by others was still a work in progress.

Carol slowed her pace and stopped in front of the building on the main avenue of the community that served as the jail. At present it was empty, its most recent prisoner having been moved to the more secure concrete walled cell built by Morgan in Alexandria to house him long term.

"_Are_ we past it?" Daryl asked.

"You got some measure of closure." Carol said. "I didn't."

In their therapy sessions Daryl had finally revealed that he'd killed two of the men who had raped him in the Wolves' camp. He'd done it to free himself, Aaron and Erin from the cell, but he had also done it to punish those who had tortured and humiliated him. His time there had made sexual desire something that he couldn't have without remembering the pain and degradation that had been visited upon him in his captivity.

They had returned him to the state of feeling worthless that he'd grown up with, something that had only been overcome before by the love and acceptance of Carol and his other friends, his new family after the Turn. The Wolves had ripped all that away from him and reset him to the small brutalized child who had been abused by his own father.

Yet even killing them hadn't really been enough. It didn't erase the feelings of inadequacy, the fear of any intimacy deeper than a kiss that a well chaperoned junior high student might share on his first date might go horribly wrong.

The problem was that getting closer to Carol_, wanting_ her, made him feel like he was losing control and he couldn't stand that feeling. When it happened, he ran, afraid that if he didn't he would lash out blindly, unable to stop himself, possibly causing her physical harm.

Claire worked with him to desensitize his fight or flight responses. Anything associated with sexual intimacy, for _both_ of them, had been a mine field of potential problems.

Carol of course had her own issues.

"You know I never agreed with the Council's reasons for keeping him alive." Daryl told her, "The man is pure evil and no amount of Zen or mercy is _ever _gonna make it safe to let him walk outa that cell." He took her hand and made her look at him, "But that don't mean I think _you_ need to be the one to put him down."

That had been her promise, back when they'd been held at the Savior's camp, that she would end Negan for everything he had done to them: all the terror and abuse, the women he raped, the people he'd casually cut down like Glenn and Rosita. He had so much to answer for that one death didn't seem enough for him to suffer.

When he'd first been locked in the cell she had fully intended to make good on her promise. She'd heard Rick, Ezekiel and Maggie out, all of them voting to follow Morgan's lead, telling her it wasn't what people in a civilized society should do, that Glenn would've wanted him to be spared, that they didn't want their new alliance to be born in blood.

She'd called them cowards, unwilling to do the hard things. She argued that keeping him alive let the evil that he was fester. Instead they should cut out the infection, that blood-letting would wash it away and let them start fresh.

The only thing that had stayed her hand had been Daryl. He told her that if she took Negan out without the Council's blessing she knew she would be banished from all the United Communities and she had to tell him how they would survive outside the walls alone with their children.

It was the main reason they had stayed at Hilltop instead of returning to Alexandria. Carol missed Michonne especially, but being away from Rick, Morgan and Negan was best for her mental well-being.

There had been some compensation in the way life had gone in their new home over the last two years. She'd been overjoyed when, after coming to Hilltop for regular monthly therapy sessions, Claire and Felicia had decided to relocate here. Things became even better when Tara and Maggie had gotten together last summer. After they hatched the plan to have a baby with Aaron and Eric the men announced they were moving to Hilltop as well.

Having so many of their close friends around them gave Daryl and Carol a sense of stability that they hadn't had since the months of calm between the storms at the Prison so long ago. Like the alliance that united Hilltop with Kingdom, Sanctuary and Alexandria, both of them grew stronger with help from their friends.

"Missed you." Daryl said, stepping closer to Carol, his thumb moving to gently rub over the knuckles of the small strong hand he was holding.

"Missed you too." Carol agreed, enjoying him being so close, taking in the uniquely wonderful Daryl scent of motor oil and leather, pine and sweat.

"So are the boys staying with Tara and them?" he asked her in a low voice as they continued down the street towards their house.

"She offered." Carol said, her heart quickening when she felt his mouth dip close to the curve of her ear.

"All night?" he asked, his breath whisper soft, his nose nuzzling against her silver curls.

Carol stopped and drew back so she could see his eyes.

They had been closer than ever in recent months, but had never quite gotten back to where they'd been when they'd finally gotten together after Aaron and Eric's original matchmaking.

Claire had told them that it might never be exactly the same, that they had changed, _been _changed by all that they had been through since then. Added to that was the reality that they had a baby sleeping in their room and a preteen in the next room, making the kind of privacy they'd used to have a pipe dream the majority of the time.

For the first six months neither of them had felt safe unless the boys were within their sight, too many memories of what could go wrong haunting them. As time went by and no other major threats against the communities had reared their head they had started to believe that maybe things could get better.

This had been Daryl's first extended mission since they'd been at Hilltop. There had been recent rumors of some odd walker behavior and some brutal killings at the edge of the Savior's territory, so he'd gone out with Aaron and Jesus to meet up with Rick and Abraham to check on how Dwight was getting along as leader of Sanctuary. Morgan had decided to live there, saying of all the communities it needed him most. No one disagreed. Dwight could be hot-headed and short tempered, but with Morgan, Wade and Karla acting as his Council, things seemed to be going pretty well.

The flurry of activity preparing for the Fair had been keeping Carol busy, but her meeting this afternoon with Olivia had shown they were just about as prepared as they could be for its start in the morning. She'd been looking forward to Daryl's return, her daily rhythm just slightly but constantly _off_ without him there.

The heated look she saw in his eyes matched what she'd been feeling while he'd been gone.

Carol nodded yes to his question about the boys and was rewarded with a pleased crooked grin.

"You smell so damn good." Daryl ducked his head back to her neck pressed little licking kisses along her jaw line. "Taste even better..." he chuckled when that made her let out a feminine groan, "...but I'm gonna need a shower. Smell like the road..."

"Need some help?" she offered. Taking showers together _hadn't_ been one of the intimacy exercises assigned by Claire. They were allowed to touch, relearning each other's bodies and what brought them pleasure, but intercourse had been off the table until both of them agreed they were ready and discussed their reasons thoroughly with the therapist in a session. Claire had finally given them her blessing to try in their last meeting before he'd left on the mission to Sanctuary.

"You sure?" he asked her, feeling her pulse quicken against his lips.

"Yes." Carol told him and she felt his smile on her throat and then the little nip and kiss there to seal it. They'd shared a bed since coming to Hilltop, taking comfort in the closeness, but again, Claire had imposed limits on their sexual behavior and they'd obeyed her to the letter... until _recently._

* * *

It had been the night two weeks ago when they'd come home after the Council meeting about the disturbances near Sanctuary. They'd surprised Daryl by asking his opinion on the matter and taking his advice to send a group to investigate further.

Hours later she awoke to find him sitting on the side of the bed, his pale bare scarred back and chest contrasting with the dark bronze of his shoulders and arms, his face contemplative. She moved closer to push his hair back off his brow to place a kiss there; making him smile his crooked smile at the reminder of the first time she'd done it, understanding she still felt he was the equal of anyone with whom he cared to compare himself.

He turned and put his arms around her, pulling her closer until she was sitting across his lap, her arms around his waist and her head resting on his shoulder.

"I should go with them." Daryl said, resigned.

Carol hugged him more tightly.

"Don't want to." he sighed. "Don't wanna leave you."

Carol raised her chin so her lips brushed against his pulse point. His hands smoothed down over the soft cotton of her sleep shirt finding the curve of her hip even as he dipped his head to find her mouth. She opened to him, his tongue tentatively exploring. When she returned the kiss he grew bolder, his hands finding and lifting the hem of her shirt so he touched the soft skin beneath, cupping one rounded cheek of her in each palm.

The noise she made before deepening the kiss even more was a moan of encouragement and taking that as a sign to continue, Daryl carefully fell back on the bed, bringing her with him, one hand still on her ass, the other working to keep pushing at the fabric covering her to reveal more of her lightly freckled flesh.

Her mouth was soft and insistent on his and he let himself get lost in the sweetness of her, thinking only of her, how much he wanted to never stop kissing her, touching her, making her happy. He used his tongue to tease and tempt, breathless with rising desire, his caresses becoming heated.

When her shirt got caught under her breasts she made a noise of distress and broke the kiss, pushing at his chest and he immediately released her, sliding back and away, his eyes full of concern.

"_Sorry... I... oh fuck..."_ he murmured, taking in her flushed cheeks, swollen mouth and eyes brimming with tears. Daryl frowned, his eyes rising to the workbook that was always beside their bed. Claire had brought it from Alexandria for them and they still used it, working through their pasts so they could have a future. There were rules and boundaries and he didn't want to do anything to screw all that up.

"I want to keep touchin' you..." he said slowly, finally realizing what had been bothering him, her _silence_. "But you ain't said a word. I need to know _you_ want this too... that you're not just letting it happen..." he saw her frown. "Need to hear you say _yes,_ you want me to touch you, to make you feel good."

He needed to know she wasn't retreating into her numbness, the coping mechanism that had served her so well with Ed and Negan, just giving him what she thought he wanted and taking nothing for herself.

Carol blinked at him, wiping at the tears that spilled over and swallowing hard after a choked sigh.

"_Yes_, I want you to keep touching me. I want you to make me feel good." she said, her voice husky with desire. Then she smiled and pulled her shirt off over her head and laid back, her eyes holding his with a look of such trust and love it made him tremble.

"You need me to stop, you know the word." he reminded her, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. When she'd begun their therapy, Claire had insisted they both have safe words. The second it was uttered everything stopped, no blame or recriminations allowed.

"I know." Carol agreed, pulling him closer, "You... you the same."

"My hands _and _mouth on you okay?" he asked, checking her boundaries. Touching each other over their clothes or with toys had been part of them getting to know their needs and limits. They'd both been able to orgasm that way, which had been a huge breakthrough, but they hadn't been truly skin to skin in this way. Giving oral sex was fraught with bad memories for Carol and receiving it was for Daryl, so he wanted to try being the _giver_.

Carol nodded yes.

He moved in to start kissing her again, dragging both her hands above her head and holding them there.

"Keep 'em there." he said between kisses and she nodded yes again, both recalling how she'd inadvertently sent him into a fugue by gripping his hair when he'd last tried this back in Alexandria.

Daryl worked his way from her lips to her neck, then collarbone, licking the slender prominence from side to side before settling in to suckle at her breasts, his whiskers rough against them reassuring her that it was _him_. He released her hands and his moved to cup and fondle, treating each of the creamy mounds like precious treasures.

Carol writhed on the bed, arms above her head, her fingers gripping the pillow, fighting the need to hold his head to her to insure he kept licking and kissing, sucking and nibbling at her tits, nipples so tight and sensitive she was close to coming from that alone. When his right hand slid down over her ribs and belly to pet at her sex she hissed in a breath that became a moan.

"_Easy..."_ he soothed, lifting his mouth from one breast to switch to the other, slipping two fingers along the seam of her center to part the labia and circle within just as he drew on her nipple hard, holding it deep and tight against the roof of his mouth and suckling rhythmically.

"_Oh God!"_ She cried out, her eyes tightly shut, coming in a flash of light, quick and bright, bucking against him helplessly.

Daryl felt the rush of heat and softening slickness against his fingers and continued with his mouth at her breast until she subsided, her chest heaving with short panting breaths.

She thought he was done when he withdrew his hand and lifted his head and she opened her eyes to thank him, but he was staring at her, sloe-eyed through his mess of bangs, licking her dew off his fingers.

Carol reached for him, but he shook his head no and captured her hands again, lifting them to grasp the headboard railing. His powerful biceps bulged as he held himself above her, one hand braced on either side of her shoulders and as she looked down his body she could see the outline of his rigid cock under his sweats.

His shaggy mane brushed against her face as he lowered his lips to hers, making love to her mouth with the deepest of kisses, fucking his tongue in over and over, the most suggestive thing he'd ever done. She arched up into him, rubbing against him, bare breasts to chest and he groaned, leaving her mouth to rain open mouthed kisses down between her breasts and then sucking down on the skin under her belly button, marking her.

"You still good? You want this?" he asked breathlessly, pressing a kiss to her mound, pretty sure he knew the answer, but wanting to be absolutely so.

"_Daryl!"_ she whimpered, and it came out like a plea, but he took it as an order, slipping back until he could spread her wide, arranging her legs over his shoulders, his hands under her ass holding her open for his feast.

"This?" he asked, using his tongue flat against her in long slow licks.

She purred at him, a kitten rumble deep in her chest and then and throaty mewl of assent.

Then he stopped for a few beats, making her wait for it.

"This?" he asked before beginning again, this time with quick flicks with the tip of his strong tongue directly on her clit and she cried out, arching up again and her legs were shaking.

After a bit more of that he stopped again.

"This?" he asked and then he licked down and thrust his tongue up and into her heat deeply while sucking at her clit like the sweetest juiciest peach imaginable. When he slipped back to tongue at and rim her smaller opening he felt her start to freeze up on him, so he slowed and withdrew.

"Wanna give you more..." he rumbled, sitting back up enough to lean over her and meet her eyes, his voice slow and hoarse with need, "...but you tell me stop n' I do."

"Daryl?" Carol sounded unsure. She's seen how hard he was... part of her wanted nothing more than to have him deep inside her, but they'd had boundaries imposed on them for a reason...

"Just my mouth and fingers—that still okay?" he asked gently, "I can use the vibrator if that's better for you."

"No—it's okay—I want to feel you, your touch, just your hands and mouth on me." Carol told him, feeling brave for saying it.

The vibrator was easy—a guaranteed orgasm in five speeds—and Claire had Carol use it to masturbate early on to prove to her that she could still have a natural physical response to sexual stimulation. Both of them had to relearn that. Daryl had to become comfortable enough with his own body's responses again to masturbate alone as well.

The next step had been for both of them to get themselves off in each other's presence. And now they'd reached the point where she was comfortable with him using the vibrator on her and he was able to have her in bed with him while he jerked off, his hand inside his sweats, her touching and kissing him elsewhere on his body, usually spooning him from behind, showing how much he truly trusted her.

But this? Him giving her full on oral with no toys? Nothing else between them? This was breaking new ground for them.

"_Hey,"_ he said quietly, reaching up and putting his hand over her racing heart and then leaning down to kiss her lingeringly. He could tell she was nervous, perhaps worried if she _didn't _come this way he would take it as his failure, or worse, _hers._

"Hey." she smiled back shyly and he kissed her again reassuringly.

"It ain't just about gettin' off, right?" Daryl reminded her, "It's about us being close, just you n' me. If it happens now, great, if it doesn't, no worries. Not all we got together. We got a _life_."

Carol nodded, but then bit her lower lip and sighed.

Daryl knew what she was thinking. Even after all this time he had difficulty with anyone else seeing and touching his unclothed body, even her. He endured the regular physicals he was required to have because he'd been so severely injured by the Wolves, but only from Erin. The prospect of being examined or treated for an injury by either Dr. Carson or any other man threw him into a panic. He endured it only if both Erin and Denise were out of the fort and it was an emergency too severe to wait for their return.

Daryl took a deep breath and re-positioned their bodies until they lay on their sides facing one another. Keeping his eyes on hers he trailed his hands down his own chest and abs until they were stopped by the waistband of his sweats.

"I want you to touch me..." he told her. "I want your hands on me when I'm touching you." Then taking another slow deep breath he pushed his pants down over his narrow hips until he freed his erection.

Carol kept her eyes on his face as he took her right hand in his and brought it to encircle the shaft. He shuddered slightly but wouldn't let her pull her hand back.

"_It's just us."_ He whispered and his mouth came open and his eyes glittered as he fought with himself to stay in the moment with her.

She leaned in and kissed him, closing her teeth over his full lower lip and sucking on it, the tiny bite of pain making him moan into her mouth. She brought her left hand up, cradling his balls as she firmed her grip on him with her right, her thumb moving up and back over the prominent vein on the underside.

"_Just us."_ he repeated, releasing his grip on her hand so he could find the warm wet haven at the juncture of her soft thighs, parting it with trembling but sure strokes of his fingers.

They traded kisses and touches, finding their releases separately but together.

Two days later they had the session with Claire where she'd told them they had gone beyond her expectations and she'd removed the restrictions.

That night Michael was sick as a dog, probably from eating something he shouldn't have while out chasing after Sam and the other bigger boys, and they had to stay up and care for a weeping, puking, sad toddler.

The next morning he'd left on the mission to Sanctuary.

* * *

Now he was back and they were practically necking in the middle of the street in broad daylight, much to the amusement of several passersby.

"They're staying all night?" Daryl asked again, this time a bit plaintively, looking at Aaron and Eric's house across the street, making her chuckle.

"All night." Carol nodded but then tilted her head at him and smiled, "You want to stop and see them first, don't you?"

"Then the shower," Daryl nodded, and then kissed her, making sure she knew he was all about them going home alone after they checked in with their sons.

"Good thing she resigned from the Junior League; they're making quite a spectacle of themselves." Aaron sniffed to Eric from the Adirondack chair next to his on the porch, ribbing him about what he'd thought of Carol when she'd first come to Alexandria.

"Junior League?" Tara snorted from the rocking chair next to him, little Hershel cuddled into her side asleep, curved around her big baby belly. "She's our warrior queen."

"Mommy! Daddy!" Mikey chirped, scrambling off Sam's lap on the porch swing and running over to rattle the bars on the baby gate in front of the porch steps, followed by his brother, making his parents break into huge smiles and hurry towards them.

* * *

_**AN: Warning: Comic book Spoilers!**_

_I think this might be it for this ones, folks! I don't have the heart to take them into the next crisis in the comics, the Whisperers, in which a lot of fan favorite characters get taken out in one fell swoop at the big all community Fair, so I choose to just end it there with some happiness for Caryl._

_I hope their on-going recovery rang true. It's not a one size fits all overnight process and requires a great deal of commitment to undergo such intense therapy. It took Carol and Daryl two years and a lot of work to get to the point they are at in this chapter. _

_I kept Negan alive (parallel to what Kirkman did in the comics where he's __still__ alive, ugh!) mainly to keep Carol at Hilltop &amp; so away from him as well as from Rick and Morgan. They both get on my nerves because of the way they treated Carol on the show. At the Prison Carol becomes a warrior in a garden, while Ricks tries to be a gardener in a war. Rick's banishment of her and Morgan's weird stalker obsession both made her doubt her (correct) natural instincts to protect those she loves. Rick outright murders people in their sleep and Daryl blows up a road full of people with an RPG and Morgan zeroes in to guilt trip Carol for what she's done? Seriously? I hate the whole Morgan/Carol story arc with a passion. _

_I tried to resolve some of the other character fates, though I know I probably left some hanging. At some point in the last two years Richonne happened, as did Heath &amp; Denise, which is straight out of the comics, though I gave them a much happier ending. Taggie (Mara?), (something that people had been predicting could happen if Glenn gets his comic book fate) was also a choice. _

_The need to repopulate the earth would be a driving force for any survivors of such a devastating depopulation event as the walker sickness, and the need for genetic diversity would require women to have children with multiple men, so the idea of Daryl fathering a child with someone else and Tara having Eric or Aaron's child and all of them raising it together could become the norm. I suppose Enid, Carl and Ron could make it work in a few more years..._

_Thank you so much to everyone who has read and commented on this one. I think it's one of the longest I've written and dealt with issues that are very important and personal to me._


End file.
